


A Friend Indeed

by CGotAnAccount



Series: No Romo. [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: FWB Katt, Getting Together, M/M, Meddling Friends, Mutual Idiocy, Mutual Pining, SHEITH - Freeform, Smut, disasters all of them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2020-07-23 12:59:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 26,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20008687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CGotAnAccount/pseuds/CGotAnAccount
Summary: There are a few things Matthew Holt has learned over the past few years of being launched into space, kidnapped, thrust into an intergalactic war, and hailed as a hero of the universe.Firstly, space is as huge and beautiful as he always knew it was – just twice as terrifying as he could ever have imagined.Second, his little sister is in fact the smartest human that will ever exist and nothing will ever convince him otherwise.And lastly, Shiro and Keith will never, ever get their shit together.





	1. Chapter 1

There are a few things Matthew Holt has learned over the past few years of being launched into space, kidnapped, thrust into an intergalactic war, and hailed as a hero of the universe.

Firstly, space is as huge and beautiful as he always knew it was – just twice as terrifying as he could ever have imagined.

Second, his little sister is in fact the smartest human that will ever exist and nothing will ever convince him otherwise.

And lastly, Shiro and Keith will never, ever get their shit together without him.

It's not that literally everyone aware of their existence can't tell from one single glance that they're secretly hopelessly in love – because it's basically the inside joke of the coalition at this point.

No, the problem is that the two of them have been in such a high intensity bromance with sexual tension as thick as tapioca for so long that they don't even know what it feels like to have normal feelings anymore.

They eat, sleep, and breathe each other – minus the eating and sleeping in all the ways that matter – and yet, when pressed on the issue they still both lament drunkenly to Matt that they'll go to their graves loving their best bro from afar.

And it's their own goddamn faults.

Even before the war had ended things had been tense between the two. Keith had been pushed away by an unfortunate case of brain puppetry and ended up with the Blades. Fortunately for Matt's libido they ended up working together fairly often, and those suits did his boy some favors.

But then Keith had disappeared and Matt had to deal with the uncanny valley copy of his best friend begging him for updates on his search and quietly crying over the acts that had pushed Keith into the dangerous situation in the first place.

At the time Matt had felt terrible, barely able to muster sympathy for a heartbroken Shiro over the bubbling bitterness spawned from the knowledge that it was all true. That he _had_ pushed Keith away, until he took more and more dangerous missions, desperate to prove his worth... until he felt that his life was expendable for someone who didn't want him around anymore, that he'd be dead with no one to mourn him anyway.

Several agonizing months of radio silence later, Keith shows back up - with the biggest glow up Matt has ever had the pleasure of getting his mouth on. He comes, he fucks shit up, saves the day, confesses his love and no homo's himself in the same breath, saves the day again, and... nothing.

And goddamn nothing. Because apparently the bravest guy in the universe is too chicken shit to take a chance on the only sure thing that's ever existed in his life and would rather occupy Matt's bed and shoulder with his grubby ass than maybe try to have one single human conversation with the walking wall of beef that's been stuttering over him for longer than Matt can handle.

Not that he's complaining. Keith came back bigger _everywhere._ Matt spends at least two days a week walking like a cowboy and sitting gingerly enough that Pidge asked if he needed a donut to sit on – jokes on her, he's into that kind of pain.

But the pain he's not into is the giant headache in the form of one Takashi Shirogane, Admiral and Professional Coward, who has reverted to his pre-launch level of dicklessness when it comes to the only person who has literally tried to die for him twice – once while spilling his guts and trying not to get his guts spilled.

The fucking moron had even mentioned maybe trying to date again in Keith's hearing, not that he was actually going to find other men judging by the disgusting puppydog eyes aimed Keith's way. Unfortunately, neither of them have enough social skills to properly deliver or pick up that level of hint.

So of course, idiot number two had taken the opportunity to stomp his own heart to death at the thought of Shiro re-entering the Garrison dating pool and had promptly cried all over Matt's room, ate several pints of ice cream, and scheduled himself on the first shuttle to New Olkarion to help with the relief efforts.

Naturally, Shiro had been equally heartbroken, utterly convinced Keith was over their bond and him, and had eaten through three trays of mac and cheese - weeping in the Paladins' common room while wearing Keith's black lion slippers and blubbering his love to his mildly horrified team.

Keith didn't bother to answer the deluge of pings to his comm after that episode.

Matt's getting tired of pestering Allura for a wormhole out to the ass end of the galaxy every time he gets a message for a booty call from his favorite feral cat.

Something has got to give.


	2. Chapter 2

“Look!” A holophone gets thrust in Keith's face despite his best efforts to hide under his pillow. “Look how pathetic that is!” Matt flings himself right onto his back and yanks the pillow up to jam the picture in front of him again. “I will pry your eyeballs open, Kitten – don't think I won't do it!”

“Fine,” Keith growls, ripping the pillow off his head and rolling over to bare his teeth at his biggest annoyance. “If I look at your stupid pictures will you quit nagging me?”

“Nope.” Matt snaps a finger gun in his direction, thrusting the screen back into his face. “I'll stop nagging when you stop being a little bitch about this.”

“Whatever,” Keith huffs, eyes rolling as he snatches the phone from Matt's hand and scowls at the screen. “It's not like anyone else...” He trails off, eyebrows creeping to his hairline as he swipes through. “Holy shit, that's pretty pathetic.”

“Yeap.” Matt nods, smirk crawling across his face. “That was three days after you left when Pidge let slip that you didn't intend on coming back anytime soon.”

“Shit...” Keith swallows, looking vaguely guilty. “I knew he'd be bummed but this is a little...”

“Heartbroken?” Matt cuts in, smug. “Like the love of his life fled the second he mentioned trying to date him?”

Keith merely grunts in answer, eyebrows drawn as he swipes through the gallery of pitiful happenings. At first they had just been Shiro moping around hugging the black lion plushie that Keith hadn't bothered to take with him. Then the others popped in and out of the frame as his face got sadder.

Then Coran had apparently brought out the alien liquor and things had... devolved.

“Are those my slippers?” Keith glances up at Matt, both confused and a little gratified that they'd apparently had a 'We Miss Keith' party.

“Mhm,” Matt grunts, shimmying out of his uniform now that the hard work was over. “He stole your jacket too, he sleeps with it every night.”

“He does not.” Keith rolls his eyes, unable to accept the level of uncool that would put Shiro at. “He probably just took it to be washed.”

Matt shrugs, picking at his cuticles with a sly look. “I caught him jerking off while sniffing the collar.”

It's not entirely true, but he's pretty sure it would have been if he had walked in a minute later judging by the way Shiro had scrambled to cover his lap and throw the jacket across the room. He hadn't stayed to hear the stammered explanation either way.

“You did not,” Keith laughs, elbowing Matt in the ribs while he swipes back and forth between two pictures that make a decent animation of Shiro accidentally flexing in a tiny t-shirt he definitely stole from Keith's closet. “He could find someone to jerk him off.”

“He tried.” Matt flicks him on the ear, thoroughly annoyed by the entire situation. “And then his prospective jerk-off buddy fled three solar systems away to escape even the barest suggestion that they might date.”

Keith shoots him a warning look as his thumb hovers over the play button on a video taken by what looks like Hunk. “He didn't mean me... he just meant dating.”

“He only meant you,” Matt shoots back, done playing nice as he flops back on Keith's bed in his boxers. “Shiro is exclusively Keith-sexual.” He rolls over just enough to scratch his ass, wiggling his fingers in Keith's direction when he wrinkles his nose. “And he has been since before we launched for Kerberos when he admitted his puppy love for my delightful fuck buddy.”

“That's... no.” Keith's protest is weak as he shakes his head and leans back onto Matt's shins. “I'm pretty sure he wants to be platonic life partners.”

“Platonic life-” Matt starts, then cuts himself off with a groan and snatches the phone back to hit play. “Listen.”

Shiro's voice comes to life over the tinny speakers.

“A-and he's so pretty!” Shiro sobs through a mouthful of cheese, obviously trashed beyond all reasonable limits. “His hair is so soft and his eyes are like galaxies and I just want to snuggle him-” He interrupts himself with a wet sniffle, wiping his nose on his sleeve and leaving a smear Keith hopes is cheese behind. “-snuggle him forever!”

The camera turns around to catch Hunk's absolutely done face. There's a wet spot on his shoulder that looks suspiciously like a face print.

“Keith if you don't come home I'm shipping him to you.”

“Send him anyway,” Lance yells from the background, “I'm sick of listening to Shiro recite his 'Ode to Lost Love' every time he thinks I'm not in the bathroom.”

Shiro's pathetic face swivels back into view, tears trickling down his cheeks as the biggest pout Keith has ever seen on a human blooms onto his face.

“So you agree it's lost?” His lower lip trembles ominously for a heartbeat before he begins to wail again. “I knew it!”

Pidge groans from somewhere off to the side.

“Matt I swear to god if you don't bring him back I'm disowning you.”

The video clicks off there, leaving Keith staring slack jawed at the queue of several more.

“They're all like that,” Matt chirps, tugging it back from numb fingers. “And I'm not going to risk losing my baby sister, so you're coming home with me.”

“Eeeh,” Keith wrinkles his nose, hand lifting to make a waffling motion above Matt's face. “I dunno about that... I still have a few weeks on this mission.”

Matt's condescending snort should be response enough, but Keith's always been a stubborn ass.

“Fine.” Matt heaves himself up onto his elbows to dig a finger into Keith's ribs. “I'll ask your mom to reassign you.”

“Yeah,” Keith scoffs, lazily swatting at Matt's hand. “Cause a leader of the Blades is going to give time off to one of her highest ranking subordinates because his friend wants him to come home and play.”

“Nope.” Matt wiggles his eyebrows at Keith's bland expression. “She's going to ship you home with me because her future son in law misses you so much he's weeping into a tray of baked noodles.”

Keith sits up in alarm, eyes narrowing. “You're not going to show her those.” The smirk on Matt's face says 'try me bitch' as his thumbs fly over the keypad. “Matt...” Keith growls, twisting to lunge across the bed and wrestle the phone from Matt's hands. “You fucker!”

“You can't win,” Matt pants, curling into a ball to protect the screen as he taps out the rest of the message. “I'm not dealing with this anymore!”

Keith's eyes flash yellow as he hooks his arm under Matt's and bands it tight across his chest, heaving him upright and exposing both Matt's vulnerable ticklish ribs and the phone. Sharp tipped fingers dig into Matt's sides, sending him convulsing instantly. It's not enough – twitching fingers garble the last few words before Matt manages to smash the send button and whip the phone across the room. Keith launches after it, leaving him to giggle in a breathless heap.

“It's too late!” He crows, triumphant and covered in scratchy red lines across his torso. “You're mine now.”

Keith glares down at the little green check next to Matt's mostly coherent message to his mom, complete with six videos and fifteen pathetic pictures of Shiro's descent. It's a violation of the bro code and a blow to Shiro's dignity at best.

“Embarrassing your best friend doesn't guarantee my mom is going to give a shit about your stupid plans.” He scowls over at Matt's twitching pile of limbs. “Shiro has a lot of respect for her, he wouldn't want her to see him like this.”

Matt shrugs, rolling over onto his back and stretching like a cat. “Desperate times call for desperate measures. He knew we were recording when it happened.” He cracks one eye open to smirk over at Keith's scowling face. “And if it brings you back home I think he'd broadcast it on galactic television.”

“Shut up,” Keith grumbles, feeling his cheeks heat as he directs his glare back to the screen. “Of course he misses me, we're best friends.”

“With soft hair and beautiful eyes, that he'd like to snuggle,” Matt chimes in, idly trailing a hand down his abdomen as he lolls his head over to take Keith in. “And you didn't even get to hear him wax poetic about your best assets.” His fingers creep lower to graze down his shaft where he's beginning to stir from the thought of those assets in action. “Which I might add, are numerous and should be put to proper use.”

Keith glances up at the way Matt's tone has gone husky, huffing a laugh as he catches the heated gaze and wiggling eyebrows.

“Really?” He rolls his eyes and looks back down at the screen where there's still no response. “I'm mad at you.”

“Then punish me, Kitten.” Matt rolls back onto his stomach and draws his knees up, ass out and waiting as he grins at Keith across the room. “I've been a bad, bad boy.”

“Oh my god,” Keith can't hold back the laugh at Matt's stupid 'seductive' face as he waggles his ass. “You're still a fucking idiot.”

“You're still fucking an idiot.” Matt grins back, winking as he slides a hand between his legs to give himself a few easy pumps. “So I think I'm coming out on top here.”

“Says the world biggest bottom,” Keith grunts, peeling his belt apart before shucking off his uniform and underwear. “You just wanna get stuffed full of any alien that'll take you.” He steps closer and runs a hand down Matt's spine, pausing to give his cheek a firm squeeze.

“So far you're the only one with standards low enough to take me up on it,” Matt snarks back, far breathier than intended as those fingernails drag thin red lines across the backs of his thighs. He twists his neck enough to get a good look at where Keith's got a hand on himself, stroking slowly. “And that juicy thing just begs to be given a good home.”

The hand on his thigh twists to cup his balls and squeezes just this side of too hard, drawing a yelp from Matt as he spreads his legs farther to ease the pressure.

“Mmm.” Keith sweeps his thumb over Matt's taint as he pretends to consider Matt's offer, releasing and squeezing his balls in little pulses. “I feel like this is more of a leasing situation.”

“I don't charge,” Matt squeaks, eyes clenched shut as he bites his lip to stifle a shuddering breath out. “Can't accuse me of having a twenty dollar booty.”

Keith's chuckle right in his ear sends a thrill up his spine, anticipation humming in his veins as the end of his long braid grazes his side. The hand around him eases and slides up, knuckle pressing feather-light against his hole.

“Lucky for me.” Keith's lips drag along the shell of Matt's ear as he hears the telltale click of a cap behind him. “With all the time I've spent filling your holes I'd be in a hell of a lot of debt if you did.” Slick fingers tap teasingly, then the tips push in with little flutters, drawing a needy sound from the back of Matt's throat before he can stop it. Matt can feel the answering rumble in Keith's chest as he pets a hand down his flank. “And you're such a good boy... worth so much more than $20.”

“Yeah?” The praise lights up Matt's cheeks just the way Keith knew it would. The discovery of a praise kink had been an embarrassing side effect of attending so many galas in their honor. One diplomat recognized Matt from a liberation effort on and expounded upon his greatness for the better part of twenty minutes. Matt had very quickly realized he needed looser slacks if he was going to go around being a hero. Keith of course had noticed immediately, sidling up to Matt with an indulgent smile, hand resting low on his back and egging the diplomat on as Matt squirmed beside him. The fallout had been the most exquisite torture Matt had experienced, with Keith draped across his back whispering how awesome he was while railing him from behind.

Needless to say Keith's been enthusiastic about ignoring his pleas for mercy on the issue – especially when Matt's upper body melts into the duvet with a little whine.

“Of course,” Keith purrs, pushing his fingers in further and crooking them up just to make Matt sing. “Your tight little ass?” The hand sliding soothing lines disappears for a moment before returning with a swift crack to Matt's now burning cheek. “This beauty saved the universe didn't it?”

“I- I mean,” Matt gasp, stuttering and willing himself not to blow his load prematurely and give Keith more ammunition. “It helped?”

“Mhmm.” Keith hums back, caressing the handprint forming. “It sure did.”

He twists his fingers mercilessly, prodding directly into Matt's prostate and ripping a cry from his throat.

“Oooh _fuck_ ,” Matt whimpers, darting a hand back to grip the base of his cock hard. “You're a fucking cheater.” He feels Keith shrug against him where he's draped over his back, the smug bastard. “I thought we agreed you gotta let me last at least five minutes.”

“Can't help it,” Keith simpers at him, teasing grin firmly in place as he slides another finger in and stretches Matt in he most delicious way. “You're such a good boy.”

“Bastard,” Matt grits out, panting hard as Keith works him open.

“Only for you, Mattycakes,” Keith coos into his ear, sliding his fingers out and wiping them on the duvet before reaching to slick himself up. The first push in never fails to steal the breath from his lungs as Matt clenches down around him reflexively, easing up in increments as Keith runs a hand down his thighs. “Relax dude.”

“Guuh.” The breath leaves Matt's lungs in a grunt as he remembers there are other muscles in his body other than his asshole and tries to accommodate the steady slide rearranging his organs. His teeth clench when Keith pulls back a little only to ease in all the way, higher brain function leaving him when he finally bottoms out. “Big.”

The hands clutching his thighs freeze for half a second before the chest draped across him starts trembling in giggles.

“Uh, thanks?” Keith snorts, stretching up to blow a raspberry on Matt's cheek. “Been a while back here eh?”

“Shut up,” Matt grumbles, jerking away from Keith's mouth and burying his face in the pillow. “You know how much of a giant cock you are.”

“Eh.” Keith chirps, smile far too evident in his voice for someone who has started to move in slow, testing thrusts. “You are what you eat.”

“Bull _shit_.” Matt chokes out, voice cracking on the word as Keith finds the angle that makes spots dance before his eyes. “Share with the class.”

“I'm - _ngg-_ joking.” The air leaves Keith in a rush as Matt grips him hard and shoves his hips back. _“_ Fuck man... your meat's the only one in my buffet line right now.”

“Damn... straight...” Matt can't do more than pant as he's steadily pried apart from the inside. “Keep your... alien STDs... away.”

The thrusts abruptly still.

“Dude.” The chest pressed against him disappears before a claw tipped hand cups the back of Matt's neck, tangling into his hair as it squeezes and pulls him upright. The hand twists his head around just enough so he can see Keith's incredulous face. “Are you seriously gonna do this right now?” There's another tug on his hair as Keith's thousand yard stare pierces him. “After we both had to sit through your mom's slideshow lecture?”

Matt does his best to shrug, pinned as he is like a scolded kitten while skewered on a massive cock. “Seems relevant.”

“You're the worst,” Keith huffs, dropping him back onto the bed. “No more speaking privileges.”

“Hey!” Matt sputters, trying to push himself to his elbows as Keith starts to thrust again, knocking him forward. “What're you gonna do about-”

Two fingers jam themselves into his mouth, gagging him as Keith bites a smirk into his shoulder.

“Much better.”

Matt's disgruntled grumbles lose the battle against the muffled whimpers shortly thereafter as Keith leans forward to grip his cock with his free hand, pumping in time to the rolling surge of his own hips.

“There we go, stud...” He pets his fingers along Matt's tongue, moaning at the way he sucks on them. “Wish we had a mirror, bet you look so pretty stuffed full.”

Matt can only whine in response, eyes watering as Keith's fingers push in deeper with every echoing slap of their hips.

“That's right, Matt,” Keith groans, fist tightening around Matt's cock as he fucks him into it. “You're such a tight little hole for me, so fucking good every time.” He can feel the bubbling arousal start to crest as he grinds his hips in deep, making sure to angle them just right. “Oh _fuck_ , oh... Matt...” His rhythm starts to stutter, fist flying over Matt's dripping length. It's enough to draw a sob from around his fingers as he leans down to bite at Matt's earlobe.

“Be a good boy and come for me.”

That's all it takes to rip a garbled scream from Matt as he convulses, spattering the sheets below him and milking Keith with every spasm.

“Oh fuck...” Keith tries to muffle his shout by biting into the meat of Matt's shoulder, his own hips pressing in deep and holding as he pumps Matt full beneath him. “Holy shit...” He wheezes, arms trembling for a moment before he gives up, pulls his fingers out, and crashes down against Matt's back - sending him face first into a puddle of his own sticky mess.

“Fuck you.” The muffled grumble comes from the pillow as Matt tries to roll him off, one hand slapping ineffectually at Keith's hip. “Suffocating.”

“Eh... I could do rigor mortis.” Keith shrugs but gingerly pulls out and rolls off, pausing to admire his handiwork trickling from Matt's ass. “Got you good this time.”

“Okay, one-” Matt rolls over, spitting hair from his mouth with a scowl as he holds up a finger. “No fucking my corpse.” He pauses to make sure his side eye is in full force before lifting another finger. “And two, I know you edge yourself before I get here just so I have to drip for the next week, you're not subtle.”

Keith sniffs, flicking the haystack of Matt's hair out of his face. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Yeah, okay,” Matt scoffs, eyes rolling. “You're just Mr. Gallon of Spunk over here.” His look is mutinous as he jams a finger out to prod Keith in the stomach. “I'm never swallowing again if you're trying to make a repeat of the potato soup incident – I was nauseous for days.”

“That was _your_ idea-” Keith throws his hands in the air with a squawk. “-you said it was medicinal!”

“We've been over this, dumbass, I was trying to get in your pants!” Matt snarks right back, leaning over to smear a sticky hand down Keith's face.

“ _Augh!_ ”

A chirp from the corner interrupts the impending disgusting slap fight.

“Oh no.” Keith freezes in horror as the screen blinks it's cheerful green notification light.

“Oh yes!” Matt crows, scrambling over him and diving for the holophone. “Come on, Blade Leader Milf...” His eyes scan the brief reply and his whole face lights up in a wicked glee that curdles Keith's stomach.

“She didn't...” The protest is weary as Keith drags himself to the corner, grimacing at the small puddle Matt has leaked onto his floor, knowing he's already lost.

Matt just spins the screen around, shit eating grin firmly in place.

'Leave approved. Send the Admiral my congratulations on finding his spine.'

“Traitors,” Keith mutters, slouching into a sprawl as he crosses his arms over his sweaty chest. “Not a single loyal person here.”

“Weeellll...” Matt drawls, leaning his goofy face over Keith's scowl. “I know one person who is just dying to prove how loyal he can be.”

Keith squints at Matt's waggling eyebrows before reaching up to flick him squarely between them. “Fine... but the second he gets a boyfriend I'm out!”

“Deal.” Matt sticks a hand out immediately, already hailing Allura for a wormhole with the other. “Now, get some pants on your sorry ass, we've got work to do.”


	3. Chapter 3

Keith's ship is already purring by the time they make it down to the hanger with a hastily packed duffle bag each and two bad cases of sex hair. His mom doesn't even try to hide her exasperation as she strolls down the gangplank, hands on her hips.

“You're cleared for takeoff in five minutes, kiddo.” Sharp teeth flash as she reaches out to ruffle his hair, nose wrinkling when her hand comes away damp. “Tell your not-boyfriend he'd better visit more often if he wants to stay in the good graces of the blades.”

Keith scoffs but nods, cheeks tinged pink as Matt snickers and elbows him in the side.

Krolia's eyes cut to him with a raised eyebrow. “That goes doubly for you, Holt.” She drags her gaze down his disheveled form and throws a wink his way. “Don't be a stranger.”

Then she's striding away, one hand raised as a half dozen blades leap to attention to prime the hangar bay doors.

“Stars above,” Matt sighs, rubbernecking as Keith drags him up the gangplank. “Your mom could break my spine and I'd _thank_ her.”

“I'm going to break your spine if you get any ideas,” Keith mutters as he throws Matt down into the copilot seat and shoves the bags at him. “I'm pretty sure her and Kolivan are a... thing.”

Matt's face goes speculative as he stows the cargo under his chair and straps himself in.

“I could be the meat in that sandwich.”

A hissing exhale escapes through clenched teeth, proof of the attempts at meditation Keith has kept up since Shiro suggested it months ago. He clips himself into the pilot seat and punches in the launch codes, wondering how much g-force it would take to keep any more words from escaping Matt's mouth.

“Hey Matt?” Keith's tone is deceptively calm as the ship glides out of the hangar.

“Hmm?” Matt hums in response, gaze still faraway and contemplative.

“Remember that time you kinda poisoned that kid who wanted to date Pidge and he barfed like six times in the cafeteria?”

Matt turns to blink at him, eyes wary. “Officially no, why?”

Keith's grin goes sharp as he punches the throttle forward, slamming them back into their seats before pulling them into a series of rolls culminating in Immelman turn that has Matt slapping one hand to his mouth and the other over his stomach. Keith lets him gag a few times before twisting to shout over the roar of the engines, eyes glinting.

“Oh no reason.”

The rest of the flight is far less eventful.

It's a relatively short jaunt back to Earth once they get in hailing range of New Olkarion where Ryner and her crew have engineered a system of mostly static wormhole access points that serve as the intergalactic transit hub for this corner of the galaxy - with the help of Allura and a few transplanted Alteans.

Not that Keith would admit that it was that easy to get home if he had a reason to stay away.

Which he might.

“So, what's the plan here anyway?” He grunts and unclips his harness to stretch his legs as they float through the tunnel of swirling light. “Just show up and tell him I heard he was a hot mess?”

Matt rolls his eyes and pries his white knuckles from the armrests to disentangle his own rigging before standing to crack his back.

“Yeah, Captain Romance, that's exactly what you're gonna do.”

Keith's nose wrinkles as he thinks about how pathetic the video had been. “Isn't that kind of... dickish?”

“Oh my god...” Matt drags a hand through his hair and fixes Keith with a look that could level mountains. “No, of course you're not going to barge in and call him pathetic, Einstein.” He throws his arms out to the side, fingers wiggling as he sashays toward a suspicious Keith. “You're going to charm him, _woo_ him, make him feel like the intergalactic space princess he was always meant to be.”

Keith squints at the encroaching spectacle as he fishes around in bulkhead compartment for a drink pouch. “Isn't this just your plan to steal Allura away?”

Matt drops his hands with a huff, crossing his arms as he leans a hip against the chair behind him.

“No, I've given up on wooing her in favor of more dangerous pursuits.” He smirks at Keith's narrowed gaze and flicks his fingers over his elbow. “I'm far too rugged to be a king anyway.”

Keith's answering snort sprays juice all over the floor.

“Eugh, _dude._ ” Matt grimaces at the spatters on his boots as Keith coughs through his giggles.

“Sorry,” Keith sputters, looking entirely unapologetic. “Must've hit a space bump.” He waves away Matt's scowl and rolls the wrist of his free hand. “Please, tell me more about this plan to turn Shiro into my damsel.”

“Hate to break it to you, buddy, but Shiro's been your damsel for years,” Matt scoffs and starts counting off on his fingers. “First the whole plummeting to Earth thing, then the dying in a spaceship thing, then the plummeting evil clone thing...”

“He wasn't evil,” Keith cuts in with a glare, hand crushing the juice pouch. “He was Shiro in every way that counted.”

“Regardless,” Matt sighs, knowing better than to argue. “You are absolutely Shiro's knight in shining armor already, we just need to play it up a bit.”

“Play it up how?” Keith mumbles, wary as he pushes off the bulkhead and wanders back over to the cockpit as the ship begins to drop out of the wormhole. “I'm not putting him in any danger just for your weird fantasies.”

“Give me a little bit of credit here.” Matt scowls and punches Keith's arm as he passes. “You know I would never, he was my best friend first.”

Keith throws him a look and straps in again, fingers tapping on the thrusters.

Matt blanches and scrambles to fasten himself back in the harness with a huff.

“I'm just saying, a little bit of charm and he's all yours.”

Keith's hands clench on the controls as he fails to wrangle the pout out of his voice.

“I thought you said he was already mine.”

“Oh Kitten,” Matt shakes his head and reaches across to ruffle Keith's mane while he can still lift his arms in normal gravity. “You really have no idea.”

Keith feels like he's still pinned by the extra g-forces when they stroll out of the ship to an impromptu welcome wagon.

“Holt,” he grits out through clenched teeth, trying in vain to fight the creeping blush at the ridiculous party hats strapped to their friends' heads. “I thought you said this wasn't going to be a big deal.”

“I lied.” Matt grins and trots ahead of him to accept his own silly party hat and noisemaker, high-fiving Hunk as he lines up to form a makeshift tunnel. “C'mon, Keith, we missed you!”

Shoulders to his ears, Keith trudges forward, biting his lip to stifle the pleased grin trying to steal over his face.

“I was barely gone guys...”

“And every minute was torture,” Hunk groans as he snags an arm and tugs Keith into a bone-crushing hug. “You can never leave again, we miss you too much.”

“Seconded.” Pidge wraps her tiny arms around him from behind, glasses pressing into the middle of his back. “You have no idea how boring it is without you around, I had no one to scowl at cadets with.”

Keith buries his smile in Hunks shoulder, shaking his head with a laugh. “Well you can always come visit me too, you know.”

“And risk getting beaten into a gang?” Lance squawks from the side as he claps Keith on the back, face pulled in feigned horror. “No thank you. They warn us about that in school.”

“Oh shut up,” Keith sputters a laugh. “We both know you just can't stomach being away from Allura for more than fifteen minutes.”

Lance shrugs, raising his hands in surrender. “What can I say, the radiance of my goddess fuels me.”

“Gross.” Pidge gags as she shares a long-suffering look with Hunk. “You're as bad as Shiro.”

Keith perks up from Hunk's shoulder, stretching to his toes to look around the hangar, but Pidge shakes her head. “Don't bother, he's in a meeting with the brass and the contingent from New Altea for another hour.”

Keith does _not_ deflate.

“It's okay buddy.” Matt claps him on the shoulder and pulls him from the tangle of limbs. “I'm sure an hour will be enough time to drape yourself tastefully across his bed.”

“Shut up,” Keith grumbles, scrubbing at his blush and shouldering his bag. “This was your idea anyway.”

“Technically,” Lance pipes up, fingers waggling in Pidge's direction. “It was Team Punk's idea, Matt's just their errand boy these days.”

Keith turns to raise a skeptical eyebrow at the two who happen to be suddenly interested in the floor.

“Really guys?”

Hunk cracks first.

“Keith, buddy.” He shakes his head, thousand yard stare in full effect. “You have no idea how bad it is around here without you.”

Pidge nods beside him, face twisted in disgust. “I caught Shiro scrolling through those novelty life sized plushies of you last week.”

They give a collective shudder as Keith rolls his eyes.

“It can't be that bad... Shiro's the coolest guy I know, he'd never-”

“Keith!”

It's almost like a scene from one of those terrible movies Regris watches, where the protagonists run through a field of flowers in slow motion...

Except it's Shiro, barreling around the corner so fast his floating arm doesn't make it and smashes into the doorway with a resounding _clang_.

He doesn't seem to notice.

“Keith, you're here!”

The others have the good sense to take several large steps back as their Captain trips over his own feet and nearly goes careening into a stack of boxes before regaining his balance and stumbling toward them, breathless.

“I came as soon as I heard and-”

Keith stares, slack jawed as his longtime crush forgets he only has one arm and tries to scoop Keith into a hug, forcing him to drop his bag and koala his arms and legs up around Shiro as the wayward appendage slingshots past and crashes into the side of the ship.

Neither one of them notice this time, not when Keith is wrapped bodily around Shiro as he spins them around, supported under the ass by a single arm as the love of his life pants down at him with a grin like a supernova.

“I missed you.”

“Uhh...” Keith blinks up at him, violently red under his disbelieving smile. “I missed you too Shiro... I thought you were in a meeting?”

“They can wait.” Shiro shakes his head and lifts his shoulder in an aborted movement, only to stop and stare at the empty space by his side. “Where's my arm?”

“Gone forever,” Matt drawls, leaning an elbow on his little sister as they wear matching looks of disappointment. “Just like your dignity.”

Shiro flushes at that, blinking down at Keith who is still wrapped around him with a strained smile.

“Oh my god, I am _so_ sorry.” He yanks his hand away like he's been burned, leaving Keith to half topple onto the floor from where he'd relaxed his hold, dragging Shiro forward with him into a groaning heap.

Hunk sighs and holds a hand over his heart.

“A moment of silence for what was lost today.”

The others follow suit, heads bowed.

Keith scowls at them, face burning as he hauls himself to his feet and offers a hand down to Shiro.

“You're gonna lose a few limbs pretty soon.”

Lance's face goes sly.

“Well we know how much that turns you on.”

Shiro's hand in the back of Keith's collar is the only thing that saves Lance, buying the fool enough time to flee with his life as Hunk and Pidge trail after him, choking on their laughter.

“It's not worth the murder charge,” Shiro soothes, wrapping an arm around Keith's shoulder once he stops struggling. “We can just put Arusian itching powder in his gym bag later.”

That at least draws a huff of laughter as Keith sinks into his hold, pointedly ignoring the smug look from Matt as he taps away on a data pad and shoulders their bags.

“As heartwarming as this is-” He throws them a pointed look and shakes his screen. “-I think Allura is going to kill you if you don't get back.”

Shiro winces, eyeing the blow-up of messages in their shared messenger, a wall of pink in all caps.

“I'm sorry Keith, I'll have to catch up with you as soon as the meeting is over... dinner?”

Keith misses the warmth of his embrace immediately.

“Yeah, of course, anything you want.”

Shiro nods down at him with a soft smile before turning, brows furrowed as his arm floats back over, finally keeping pace as he trots out of the hangar with the tattered remains of his dignity.

Matt's sidles up to Keith with the world's most obnoxious face.

“Sooo...”

“Don't.” Keith throws him a sidelong look and holds a hand out for his own bag. “Don't start.”

Matt hands the bag over with an exceptionally smug grin. “I didn't say anything.”

“You didn't have to.” Keith grunts as he hefts the weight and strides into the hallway, Matt at his heels.

“But if I were to say something-”

“Don't-”

“It would be something along the lines of-”

“Don't you dare, Holt.”

“ _I told you so.”_


	4. Chapter 4

Matt sticks around for less than ten minutes, just long enough for an eyebrow wiggle and a 'go get em tiger' as he waltzes out of the room to go melt things with Pidge or come up with more ridiculous ideas to foist upon Keith in the name of romance.

Which leaves Keith with approximately two hours to kill waiting for Shiro's meeting to end. Two hours in a room that he swears Atlas scoots closer to Shiro's quarters every time he comes back to the ship. This time he's almost certain they're sharing a bedroom wall, and maybe a bathroom door – but the bathroom layout has changed twice and added a mirror since he set his things down, so it's anyone's guess at this point.

Either way, he's going to need every moment to figure out how he's supposed to woo anyone. He's not a woo-er by nature – Matt's company had been more of a happy accident, a lagoon in his desert of thirst.

Shiro's like the whole ocean in comparison – broad, makes him wet, could probably drown him... and there's also the whole, love of his life thing.

No pressure or anything.

It's not like fucking this up could theoretically destroy their entire friendship, the Blade/Coalition relations, their unity as paladins, his whole life... you know, the small stuff.

…

Okay, so maybe that's just a little over dramatic, but it _feels_ like the end of the world every time he thinks about Shiro doing that awkward little feet shuffle, hand through the hair, tight smile, brush off Keith's seen him do to so many crewmen ready to shoot their shot with the one and only Admiral Shirogane – not that he can blame them.

He'd just rather die than be on the receiving end of it.

Just the thought has him flopping back onto the bed to scream into a pillow, feet flailing uselessly in little thumps against the hard plastic of the frame.

It's less than satisfying.

Heaving one last groan into its fluffy depths, he chucks the pillow across the room and rolls up to sit, eyeballing the clock on the wall.

One hour and thirty-seven minutes. More than enough time to have an existential crisis and still have time to panic afterward, apparently.

“I'm so fucked,” he groans into the empty room, picking idly at the seam on his uniform. “I didn't even pack any good clothes.”

The wall intercom chirps at him twice before a smooth section of the wall slides away into a closet.

“Atlas... thanks, but that's a little creepy.”

The intercom chirps low, a mournful sound as the door creeps shut.

“No no, wait!” Keith jerks to his feet, hand outstretched to the panel. “I'm sorry, it's totally not creepy that you're listening all the time, I swear.”

The door wobbles, then slides back open as he blows out a breath.

“Thank you.” He drags a hand through his hair and aims a half smile at the intercom, unsure if bratty sentient spaceships can see him or if the privacy violations only extend to audio.

Either way, at least he's got something. A cursory inspection turns up a few pairs of pants, one full dress uniform, three of the exact same black shirt, and his pouches.

“I swear I left my jacket here,” he grumbles as he digs through his meager belongings, “Matt even said he saw it-”

Two more chirps and a panel slides open from the opposite side of the room to reveal a cubby just big enough to hold his old jacket and a sleek black leather one that he'd know anywhere.

He barely hesitates a second before grabbing a change of clothes to throw on the bed and making a beeline for the cubby. If Atlas has communal coat closets now he's not going to complain, or waste this opportunity to bury his face in the collar of the leather and breathe in the scent he's been missing.

...Detergent.

“Seriously?” He hisses, yanking the apparently freshly washed jacket away from his face. “Who washes a leather jacket?”

The light blinks again, and it feels a little judgmental, _Who sniffs a leather jacket?_

“You wouldn't get it anyway,” Keith definitely doesn't sneer at the ceiling, cheeks clearly not pink at all as he crosses his arms and huffs. “You don't even have a nose.”

The door clangs shut before he can swap the jacket with his own.

Keith's teeth click shut shortly after.

He sucks in a settling breath and pinches the bridge of his nose to stave off the oncoming headache.

“You know what?” He blows the breath out and tosses the jacket onto the bed. “This is fine... I look good in black anyway.”

The room doesn't respond.

It doesn't stop him from squinting at the seamless blank space where the cubby had been.

“Whatever.”

A forty-five minute shower helps relieve some of the tension in his neck and shoulders, earned over weeks of hauling supplies and compounded by several hours of grinding his teeth, trying not to kill his copilot on the flight out. He can even almost poke the muscle there without feeling pain lance up into his skull - really the only thing more relaxing at this point would be, well... _relief._

His other brain perks up at the mere flicker of a thought, stirring traitorously as he rinses off the final suds from his chest.

“Oh come on,” Keith groans, mouth twisting as his thumb grazes a nipple and makes it worse. He sucks in a breath and glares down at himself, hands on his hips. “We do not need to jerk off before Shiro gets here, that's creepy.”

His dick twitches at the mere mention of Shiro's name and he narrows his eyes as his wayward fingers drum against his hipbones.

“Stop that.” They drum again, seemingly of their own accord, then graze through the hair trailing below his navel. “Really?” He heaves a gusty sigh, shaking his head as his fingers sneak lower. “Well, if you insist.”

The first curl of his fingers around himself is heaven, despite getting laid less than a day ago, and his hips stutter up into the feeling. A grunt escapes his chest, eyebrows raising in surprise before pinching together as he blows out a breath. “Well this isn't going to take long.”

His monkey brain seems to agree, helpfully supplying images of Shiro – Captain of the Atlas in all his finery, decorated in medals and sunshine, all smiling face, pearly white teeth, _pearly_ white... all over his face, on his knees with his hands behind his back, begging for release as Keith rubs his cock all over that jawline and those pretty lips...

He can practically feel the plush give of the lower lip as he'd press down on it, dragging gently until Shiro couldn't help but be a good boy and open that sweet mouth of his. He can picture the shadow of Shiro's long eyelashes fluttering shut when he bobs his head forward to take more of him in – how they'd gather tears at the corners the deeper he goes, how his eyes would glisten as he finally looks up at Keith, buried to the hilt and whimpering, throat working around him as he tries to beg for more...

The first surge of his orgasm takes him by surprise, accompanied by an embarrassing warble of a moan that rips out of his throat and echoes off the tiles. He bites off a curse and eases himself through it, legs trembling as he pants into the rapidly cooling spray.

“Well shit.” He huffs a laugh and swipes some stray evidence off the wall, flicking his hand into the drain before twisting off the tap. “And it's a new record...”

Drying off is perfunctory, more of a hair wringing and quick swipe down than anything when he's back in a climate so dry it feels like his face is going to shrivel off his skull. His hair still drips a trail across the bedroom floor and immediately soaks the collar of the shirt he yanks over his head.

“'Come back to Earth' they said,” he grumbles, holding the soaked weight off his neck and trying to wring more into a puddle on the floor where it seeps into the hem of his pants. “'It'll be great' they said.” He throws a longing glance at the objectively filthy standard issue blade undersuit and its moisture wicking material in a heap on the floor. “Still making things out of cotton...”

Sighing again, he gives up and lets his hair flop down to his back with a wet smack and snags the datapad as he settles onto the bed to wait. Predictably, Matt's sent at least three pictures of different species waggling their eyebrows in a coordinated effort with Pidge's link to an industrial sized barrel of lubricant.

Hunk's message is just a mournful looking cat and an apology for not stopping them. Keith smiles at that before saving it into his secret friendship folder and pulling up a tab to find the appropriate cat to send back.

A ping from the brass interrupts his scrolling – the mandatory intake paperwork from Iverson, to be completed at his earliest convenience, which is downright friendly by the man's standards.

And if Iverson is sending him messages, then that means-

“Keith!”

He hears the muffled slap of footsteps through the door as much as his own garbled name and has a sudden vision of Shiro pulling a repeat performance from this afternoon. He scrambles to his feet, datapad chucked aside as he tugs on the leather jacket and lurches toward the door before Shiro can ram himself squarely into the locked metal.

Of course, he needn't have worried when the door to his room slides open of its own accord and the Captain of the Sentient Spaceship bounds inside to sweep him into another hug – or that's what it seemed like the plan was, until Shiro stumbles to a stop right in front of him, gaping.

“Is- is that my?” Shiro blinks down at him, transfixed and panting from exertion as he reaches out to finger the lapel of Keith's ill-gotten attire.

Keith colors up to his ears.

“Oh, uh... yeah.” He shrugs, like it's no big deal and he wasn't trying to sniff it an hour earlier. “Atlas kinda stole my jacket and gave me this one, so...” The lights blink yellow behind Shiro's head, an obvious warning that Keith cheerfully ignores as he starts to shrug out of the buttery material. “But you can have it back, of course, it's no big deal or-”

“No!” Shiro lurches forward, hand tightening on the collar before yanking back like he'd been burned. “I- I mean, you don't have to.” The lights flicker green behind his head. “It uh... it looks good on you.”

“Really?” Keith can't help but preen, squaring his shoulders as he grins up at his best friend. “I thought it fit a little better than last time.”

“Yeah, you can definitely say that,” Shiro chuckles and scrubs a hand through the hair on his nape, cheeks heating as he flickers a look back to Keith's shoulders and away. “You should keep it... I don't really have much use for it now, you know?” His mouth twists a bit as he curls the fingers on his new arm. “It's nice to see it getting some love, even if you're not using it as a tent anymore.”

“Har, har.” Keith rolls his eyes and aims a punch that glances off Shiro's shoulder. “You were smaller back then too, old timer.” He cocks an eyebrow and slides an appraising look from boots to floof, letting a smirk slot into place as he holds eye contact. “But I don't think either of us have any complaints about it now.”

Broad shoulders square up as Shiro straightens under the scrutiny, pink creeping to the tips of his ears. “Well I certainly hope not.” He lets a crooked grin bloom as he reaches out to tap Keith under the chin. “Would hate to disappoint my favorite cadet.”

“Hey!” Keith scowls, nose wrinkling as he lets Shiro tip his jaw up. “The paperwork for promotion already got approved.”

“And yet, there's still two bars on your shoulders, punk.” Fingers dance, drumming under his chin as Shiro raises an eyebrow. “I believe your commanding officer has yet to pin your well earned medals on officially.”

Keith swallows hard enough that he feels his adam's apple graze Shiro's fingers, willing his face not to give him away. “Well, maybe he should get on that then.” It comes out rough as he aims for mulish and fails miserably. “Preferably before he goes and tries to get himself killed again.”

Shiro's indignant squawk breaks the moment and his fingers drop away, giving Keith room to breathe again.

“I don't _try,_ ” Shiro pouts, crossing him arms and taking a step back to lean against the door jam. “And the war is over, what's the worst that could happen now?”

Keith shakes his head, huffing a laugh despite the frisson zinging down his spine. “Don't tempt fate, I'm not around here to save you anymore.”

Shiro's smile goes sly and boyish as he curls up a hand to examine in his nails. “And if I did decide to tempt fate?” His gaze flicks up to meet Keith's, one eyebrow raising in challenge. “Would you be around more?”

Groaning, Keith tugs on the ends of his borrowed jacket and glares, striding forward to shoulder Shiro out of the way as he heads for the hallway. “Don't you get any ideas.” He turns and pokes the hard planes of muscle beneath the black and white uniform. “I said as many times as it takes, and I meant it – but that doesn't mean you get to go play in traffic to get your jollies.”

One massive hand engulfs his own and flattens it to the fabric as Shiro steps forward and pulls him into a hug. “Of course not, Keith.” Shiro murmurs into his hair, breath ruffling the wet strands there. “I would never.” He pulls back to smile down at him, his other hand coming up to claim it's spot on his shoulder. “Besides, I prefer getting my jollies with you.”

“Well, uh...” Keith stutters, relaxing into the touch. “I- that's good, I mean... I'm gonna be around now, so...” He trails off, clearing his throat before jerking his thumb at the door. “Anyway, dinner right?”

Shiro's smile softens impossibly more as his hand squeezes and drops away. “Yeah, buddy, dinner.” He steps forward and wraps an arm around Keith's shoulder, guiding him to the door that opens with a thought into the hall. “Just gotta stop by the mess hall real quick to grab the basket and then we'll be good to go.”

Keith cocks his head up at him, almost too busy basking in their proximity to care about the change of plans. “We're not eating in the mess with the rest of them?”

“On your first day back?” Shiro scoffs, fingers curling into the leather. “Give Hunk a little more credit than that.”

Keith shrugs under the weight of his arm. “I've been living on goo and mystery meat for the last few weeks, I'd eat just about anything with anyone at this point.”

Shiro shakes his head with a sigh and skates his gaze down like he can somehow find protruding ribs beneath the leather jacket and muscle. “Well tonight you'll be treated to the finest feast Cafe Hunk can whip up in about an hour, served under the stars on the Garrison's finest concrete rooftop.” He winks, then abruptly flushes, grimacing. “That is, if you want to, we can always-”

“It's sounds great, Shiro.” Keith cuts him off, knocking an elbow into his ribs. “Way better than old meatloaf and cadet gossip.”

Shiro's smile comes back in full force, nearly stealing Keith's breath away.

“Perfect, then it's a da- ...um... a dinner”

“Yeah, Shiro.” Keith agrees faintly as they stroll side by side, visions of wooing dancing in his head. “It's sure something.”


	5. Chapter 5

The Garrison rooftop hasn't changed a bit – down to the rusty hatch they both shimmy through and the little hash marks Keith had once made, waiting for Shiro to come back from the stars half a decade ago. It's almost comforting to think that this little bubble belonging just to them survived when everything else seems so determined to change.

“Well, here we are.” Shiro smiles down at him as he hauls Keith over an air vent, still rattling from the same broken fan blade it always has. “One fancy table for two.”

Keith huffs a laugh as he settles down beside Shiro on the blanket set up by the edge of the railing, protected on either side by concrete buttresses that serve to block out the ambient light from that side of the building. The same old boot scrapes are on the short wall marking the edge, dredging up memories of a time when kicking their feet against it and passing a bottle of wine between them was the height of rebellion.

“Do you remember when we stole that tray of desserts and snuck up here?” Keith grins at Shiro as the larger man hunches to dig out sealed containers from the picnic basket. “And Iverson stomped around the entire compound looking for us?”

“Oh man,” Shiro barks a laugh, turning to beam at Keith as he unwraps what appear to be sandwiches. “Don't remind him – I thought he was going to levitate himself up here and kick our asses.”

“You always were a boy scout.” Smile fond, Keith leans over to wrap his knuckles on Shiro's shoulder, one eyebrow raised in challenge. “Who would have thought that Golden Boy Shirogane would have been out here corrupting the youth.”

“Excuse you,” Shiro sniffs, dangling the sandwich above Keith's head, just out of reach. “I believe the youth corrupted me... I was the perfect officer until some young punk stole my car.”

“You looked like you needed a little excitement in your life.” Keith shrugs, stretching up in an attempt to get his dinner - pouting when Shiro wiggles it even higher with a smirk. “It's not my fault you got a taste for trouble and liked it.”

“You're the firecracker that lit my fuse though,” Shiro teases, finally lowering the package into Keith's grabby hands. “I think you set me on the path of rebellion with your wicked ways.”

“I can't help that I'm so hot.” Keith winks as he tears into the meal, nearly moaning at the flavors Hunk managed to pack into something so simple. “Besides, you're the one who showed me how to drive a bike off a cliff.”

“I was trying to impress you!” Shiro squawks, stuffing his own mouth full as Keith gives him a look of disbelief. “It's true – you were so cool, all I had was a leather jacket and perfect grades... I was afraid you'd realize I was actually a dweeb.”

“I knew you were a dweeb from the start.” Dark eyes roll as Keith scoots closer on the blanket, huddling from the chill that isn't completely kept at bay by his jacket. “Everyone in this place is a dweeb, it's a nerd flight school.”

Pausing in his chewing, Shiro squints down at him.

“You're not a dweeb.”

“Shiro...” Shaking his head, Keith crams the rest of the bread in his mouth, chewing slowly as he looks at his best friend in judgment – Shiro's practically squirming by the time he swallows. “I might have come here because I wanted to fly shit, but I still have to know all the math to do it, right?”

The vehement disagreement on Shiro's face is almost funny.

“No way.” He crosses his arms and huffs at Keith with a little pout, looking for all the world like a disgruntled puppy. “There's no way you do any of that flying with math.”

“...what?” Keith's tone couldn't be more incredulous as he brings his hands to his forehead, staring at one of the smartest men he knows spewing nonsense. “How do you think I fly if not with the extensive calculations drilled into my skull over several years of suffering through classes so I could hang out with you?”

“Half alien magic.” The 'duh' is implied as Shiro squints down at him like he's the crazy one. “You flew through that first sim like you were born in a cockpit – don't try to tell me middle school algebra taught you that.”

“Well, no... but-”

“And I've watched you dodge blows that you couldn't have possible known were coming... _I've seen you pilot with your eyes closed._ ” Shiro looks about two seconds from throwing his hands in the air as he grows steadily louder. “Your reflexes are off the chart, you fly like a leaf on the wind, I bet you could thread a goddamn needle with a fighter jet... you've successfully crash landed crippled ships more times than I've suited up!”

Keith's cheeks could be a landing beacon with the way he's lit up with the praise.

“Shiiirroooo, stooooop,” he groans, trying to cover his face with his hands as Shiro pants above him. “I know I'm good, but you're just as good as I am.”

“Keith,” Shiro deadpans, looking at him like he's claimed the sky is orange. “You broke my senior year records in your first three months here. _Three months, Keith._ ”

“But I never could have done it without you!” Keith cries as he scoots closer, pathetic and pouting. “You were there for me every step of the way, I learned everything from you... my life would be so much different without you here for me.”

“Maybe so,” Shiro hedges, reaching out to plant a hand on Keith's shoulder. “But so would mine.” He smiles softly down at Keith's earnest face, thumb stroking his collarbone. “I wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for you.”

“Yeah well,” Keith grumbles, ducking his head to hide the way the words make his heart lurch. “I could say the same, can we just agree that we're equally great?”

“Keith.” The hand on Keith's shoulder squeezes gently as Shiro sighs his name. “You've always been my equal, and you've always been great.”

“You- Shiro...”

It's barely a squeak as Keith chokes on the welling emotion inside him, biting his lip to keep it from trembling as the weight of that silvery gaze pins him in place. It's the perfect moment, the moon high above them, the ambiance of nostalgia, a romantic picnic...

“Shiro, I-” His voice wavers as he grazes Shiro's knee with a trembling hand. “Um... you mean a lot to me, and-”

“You mean a lot to me too, Keith,” Shiro cuts in, hand squeezing again - a steadying weight on his shoulder. “More than anything.”

“Right, me too.” Keith nods at him, reaching out with his other hand to cup Shiro's where it rests on the blanket. “You're my best friend, and my brother in arms, and so much more.... and I need you to know that I l-”

“WILL CAPTAIN SHIROGANE PLEASE REPORT TO THE BRIDGE OF THE ATLAS.”

“Are you _fucking_ kidding me?” Shiro snarls, whipping around to glare at his ship where it's docked against the main hangar bay. “I turned my communicator off for a reason!”

“It's okay, Shiro,” Keith sighs, shoulders slumping. “I'm sure it's important if-”

“I REPEAT, WILL CAPT _AIUUGHH-_ ”

The speaker cuts off into a screech of static as the ship morphs, bridge viewing port disappearing entirely from the upper deck.

“Ooh boy,” Shiro groans, pulling his hand away to pinch between his brows. “She's not happy.”

“Is it important?” Keith asks, trying to keep the disappointment out of his voice as he begins packing up their trash.

“She doesn't think so...”

There's an unspoken 'but' hanging on his sentence – like the weight of duty on his shoulders as he straightens his back to glare at the ship.

“Well, at least I'm not the only one trying to get you a break.”

Keith tries to keep his voice light, but he can tell he misses the mark by the way Shiro's brow furrows.

“Keith...”

“Hey, it's fine Shiro, don't look so glum.” Keith shrugs, plastering on a smile as he stands and offers Shiro a hand up. “I'll be here for a while, we've got time, right?”

Staring at the hand in front of his face, Shiro sighs long and low.

“You know, I keep telling myself that,” he mutters, grasping Keith's palm and letting himself be hauled to his feet. “But sometimes I'm afraid that things are going to start slipping through my fingers.”

Letting go of Shiro's hand after that feels like a crime.

“You'll always have me.”

“I know, Keith.” Shiro smiles down at him, but it's a wistful thing. “And you'll always have me too.”

The words should spark a flood of affection through him... but as Shiro scoops up the basket with a sigh and turns to head back down the latch toward their responsibilities they're no more than cold comfort.

* * *

They part ways at a fork in the hallway, Keith going back to his room and Shiro onward toward wherever the bridge has been moved to – or rather, he attempts to get there.

“I am _so_ sorry!” Veronica cries as she barrels through the door and into him at top speed, clinging to the arms of his jacket. “I know you had tonight blocked off and I tried to stop them but they said it was important and-”

“Easy, Ronnie, easy...” Shiro cuts off her babbling as he uncurls her death grip on his sleeves. “What's the fuss about?”

“That's just it,” she moans, one hand slapping to her eyes to drag across her face. “It's nothing!” Grinding her teeth, she turns on her heel and stomps back through the door to the viewing deck to jab a finger at the utter lack of alerts. “Someone hailed Atlas on an emergency line and the newbie on coms didn't even bother to check what it was before hailing you... when he couldn't get your direct line he paged.”

Shiro resists the urge to put his face through the display in front of him.

Barely.

“What did they want?”

Veronica winces, wringing her hands with an apologetic look.

“They wanted landing codes.”

He can feel the muscle in his jaw ticking as he very pointedly refuses to look at the pit where the communications officer sits.

“Landing codes.” The words eek out between gritted teeth as his eyelid begins to flutter. “On an emergency line.”

“They said...” Veronica starts, grimacing as she shakes her head. “They said it was an emergency because their ambassador needed to use our facilities and the ship was 'unsanitary.'”

It's deathly quiet for a moment as Shiro presses his lips together, tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling where a cluster of lights blinks into a sad face.

“I got called away from my date... for someone's bladder issues?”

“To be fair-” A voice pipes up from the pit, just a touch huffy. “-we don't even know if they have bladders, it could have been life or death.”

“ _Newbie._ ” Veronica growls, squinting down from the catwalk with all the feral fury of a lioness. “If I were you I'd shut your damn mouth and get off this ship before you shove your foot even farther down your throat, are we clear?”

“Y-yes ma'am!” The man squeaks, chair rattling as he flees down the lower deck's hallway.

Shiro counts to ten, sucking in deep breaths as the pattering footsteps fade. He can't afford the amount of paperwork it would cause to have someone squished by his exceptionally petty spaceship on his behalf.

“Veronica?” he asks, voice deceptively calm as his fingers tap out an agitated rhythm on his thigh. “How many transfer requests do we have for that position?”

“About seventy, sir.” She huffs a laugh, unhooking the tablet from her hip to pull up the crew roster. “I'll have it down to three by tomorrow afternoon.”

“Thank you, that would be lovely.”

He lets out a gusting sigh and slumps forward, silently apologizing to Atlas for not trusting her blaring insistence that is was, in fact, nothing.

“Sir?” Veronica steps to his elbow, face torn between mischief and concern. “For the record... if I had been informed prior that it had been a date I would have pasted him to the wall long before he got his fingers on the intercom.”

“Er, well...” Shiro hedges, cheeks flaring as the lights on the bridge flicker in something that feels distinctly like mockery. “What I meant was-”

“Because I had been informed it was dinner with Keith,” she cuts over him, patented McClain smirk on her face. “Which, if that now qualifies as a date, may I be so bold as to ask when the change occurred?”

“You may not.” Shiro grunts, petulant as he crosses his arms at her. “Don't think I don't know about that betting pool.”

Her answering smile could put a cherub to shame.

“What betting pool, sir?”

“The one you didn't win, because my dinner got interrupted before I could ask him out.”

“Aha!” The fist pump seems a little excessive, obnoxious even - especially when she whips out a little notebook and crosses off a few boxes with a grin. “Joke's on you, Cap.” She smirks up at him, tongue between her teeth as she wiggles her eyebrows. “I lost four months ago, Hunk lost tonight.”

“Four months ago?!” Shiro sputters leaning over in an effort to peek at the notebook that she snatches back to her chest with a squint. “Why would you have bet so early?”

“Oh gee, I dunno.” She rolls her eyes and tucks it back in her pocket, foot tapping as she ushers him out the door. “Maybe I thought that my boss would have taken the romantic gala with inter-alien unity as a chance to form a little union with his own favorite alien.”

Shiro stumbles out the door, neck craned to gape at her.

“I mean, it was nice and all, but... really?”

“Hey, I was closer than Lance,” she pouts, matching his strides and leading him back to the residential wing. “He was convinced you two had some sort of secret lovers thing going on for a while... nearly cried that his hero had been tainted by his rival.”

“That... sounds about right.” Shiro sighs, dragging a hand through his hair and across his exhausted features. “Who's winning now?”

“Ah, ah – not so fast Cap, that's classified.”

“Pretty sure I have that clearance, Lieutenant.”

“Sorry, sir. Not my call – it's outside of the chain of command.” She grins at him before saluting crisply and jogging down the hall, twisting to call over her shoulder, “Plus I like my eyebrows where they are.”

Shaking his head with a laugh, Shiro turns to plod back to his own room.

There are only two people in the world with the balls to gag order Shiro's own crew on threat of forced hair removal...

And Shiro happens to be willing to tattle to their mother.


	6. Chapter 6

The hydroponic greenhouse is absolutely thrumming with life when Shiro trots through its doors the next morning with a bouquet of sunflowers and Colleen's favorite tea. He'd gotten up early enough to beg an extra large thermos from the mess hall workers before they got too busy with the morning rush – which has the added benefit of keeping a relatively low profile in the nearly empty halls as he attempts to carry out subtle recon.

“Goooooood morning, favorite Holt!” He calls down the row of tomato vines toward where he can see the bottom half of a pair of legs sticking out from some overflowing pots. “How are the veggies treating you?”

“Shiro!” A muffled voice chirps as an arm pulls back – complete with the biggest pair of shears Shiro has ever seen – and the rest of Colleen Holt emerges from her tiny jungle. “What a pleasant surprise.”

She's dirt-streaked and beaming as she brushes down her jacket, setting the shears off to the side to trot up to Shiro and pull him into a hug.

“Hi mom.” He wraps his arms around her thin shoulders, careful not to spill tea on her as he hooks his chin over her head. “You look like a wood nymph.”

“I feel like one,” Colleen huffs a laugh, pulling back to eye him with a grin. “What brings our esteemed Admiral down to my little garden here?”

“Just wanted to bring you a little something.” Shiro turns his mega-watt smile on her and thrusts out his gifts. “It's that Olkari blend tea you like, and some flowers for your desk.”

“Ooh Shiro, they're beautiful!” She buries her face in the bouquet and inhales deeply before accepting the thermos and repeating the process with equal vigor. “They smell wonderful too! What's the occasion?”

Scratching at the back of his neck, Shiro shrugs, trying to play it casual as she looks up at him with a knowing smile.

“Can't I do nice things for you without a reason?”

Her smiles goes shrewd, and he knows she's onto him.

“Of course you can dear.” She pats him on the arm, then hooks a finger into his sleeve and tugs him back down the rows to her little office where the sunflowers get tucked into one of the plethora of vases sprinkling every flat surface. “But your poker face hasn't gotten any better since you were sixteen.”

He deflates with a sigh, scrubbing a hand through the clipped hair at his nape with a sheepish grin.

“I'll never be able to get anything past you, will I?”

“Not likely dear.” She beams at him and pats him on the hand again, ushering him to sit in the overstuffed chair next to her desk. “But that's what mothers are for... now, spill your guts kiddo.”

“It's stupid,” Shiro grunts as he flops down and is immediately engulfed in the hideous plush monstrosity. “Matt and Pidge made this whole bet thing about me asking out Keith and now it's all weird.”

Colleen's smile stays serene as she cocks her head at him, one eyebrow arched in what might be a tease.

“Well... do you want to ask out Keith?”

“I- I mean... yeah, but-” Shiro sputters, flustered as he feels the heat creep into his ears, embarrassed to finally put words to his long kept secret. “-it's.... hard.” He can't hold back the scowl that burns into the cheery flower pot by his side. “And it's not any easier with them constantly meddling.”

She blinks at him long and slow, then shakes her head and sets about pouring the tea.

“You know, it took Sam and I nearly four years to stop dancing around each other.”

The words hang there for a moment as Shiro watches her pull down two cups, barely able to believe that those two weren't born married already.

“...really?”

Colleen hums in response, a secretive little smile on her face as she pours the steaming tea into each mug.

“Really. I thought he might actually be gay for a while.” The smile morphs into a cheeky grin as she drops in two cubes of sugar for Shiro and slides the mug across the desk. “I thought there was no way he wasn't picking up my signals.”

“Wow... that's...”

“Special, I know... but Sam's no communication's officer you know.” She shakes her head, huffing a laugh and swirling her spoon in aimless little circles. “By the time we finally got together half the program was out a significant amount of money... the other half thought we'd eloped the year before.”

“And that didn't bother you?” Shiro asks, leaning forward to plant his chin on his hand. “All those people being so nosy about your personal lives?”

“Of course it bothered me,” she snorts, nose wrinkling at the memory. “But what mattered was our relationship and how we got there... not a whole bunch of busybodies who can't find anything better to do.”

Shiro's own face scrunches in return at the thought of his crew and all their friends waiting like a pack of jackals.

“Still... I feel like I can't just be natural with Keith anymore, like there's always going to be someone breathing down our necks and checking the calendar like it's a winning lottery ticket.”

“Shiro...” Colleen reaches forward to cover Shiro's hand with her own, palm soothingly warm from her mug. “You know it doesn't matter when you make it official, you and Keith are already the picture of hope for so many people in the universe... you don't need to announce your love for everyone to feel it.”

“But he deserves to hear it,” Shiro grumbles, remembering the months passed since Keith's desperate confession... and his own cowardice. “He deserves to know, even if he's moved on or-”

“Oh _please_.” She cuts him off with a laugh, waving away his angst in the way only a mother can. “That boy thinks you hung the moon. You could wait til you're both old and wrinkly and never say the words to him and he'd stay by your side until your last breath.”

“But that's not the poi-”

“ _But-_ ” She continues, poking a finger into his chest with an appraising look. “-if you really want to woo the boy, my suggestion is to take him on a nice romantic picnic... _far_ away from the rest of your crew... with no communicators.”

“That seems like something top brass wouldn't be fond of...” Shiro grunts, keen on the idea of that much alone time, but not thrilled by the mountain of paperwork to get the clearance and emergency plans ready.

“Leave that to me.” Colleen winks at him over the rim of her cup before taking a long sip, obviously delighted by the brew. “Which reminds me... Olkarion's nearest moon is going to have an eclipse next Thursday, I hear the twilight cast by that can be awfully... inspiring.”

“Oh really?” Shiro takes a sip of his own tea, thoroughly intrigued. “And who exactly has that date, eh?”

His mom barks a laugh, head thrown back as she claps him on the hand once more.

“Oh Shiro, you _are_ petty like me...” She shakes her head and grins at him, wiggling her eyebrows. “Don't worry, I'll hunt down my dear feral children, twist their arms, and let you know if it's anyone particularly objectionable... can't have Slav winning now can we?”

The shudder that crawls up his spine nearly makes Shiro spill his tea.

“Please, anyone but him,” he grunts, scowling into his mug at the thought of doing his least favorite scientist any favors. “He'll demand to have a say in the luckiest wedding colors.”

One neat eyebrow arches high over the rim of Colleen's mug.

“Already talking about weddings are we?”

“I- _wha-_ no, I meant...”

“It's fine dear,” she smirks, short nails tapping out a wedding theme on the ceramic. “Just give me enough time to get the flowers together before you run off into the sunset.”

“ _Moooom_.”

Keith takes to the idea of a picnic eclipse far better than Shiro could have hoped, immediately pulling out his pad and scrolling through information about pit stops they could make on the way there as they stroll down the hall together.

“-and you know, if we don't want to take one of Allura's wormholes directly to Olkarion we could ask her to shoot one to the closest space mall and go from there.” He pauses, looking up at Shiro with a bright smile. There's one long strand of hair falling into his face, taunting Shiro to just run his hand through the silky locks. “Whaddya say? It could be like old times at the food court, just people watching and eating fried garbage.”

“Sounds great Keith.”

Shiro feels his heart stutter at the crinkles around Keith's eyes when he smiles even wider. He's so cute, so carefree like this, like he was in those precious few months between being coaxed from his shell and Shiro's launch into the stars. He'd give anything to keep Keith like this forever.

Instead he clears his throat in an effort to fight the blush starting to heat up his cheeks, poking at something on the pad to distract Keith's unwavering gaze.

“What if we pit stop on that swap moon?” he asks, fighting down the twitch at the corner of his mouth as he aims a solemn look down at his best friend. “I bet they'll forgive your outstanding warrant for saving the universe and all...”

Keith's face scrunches as he squints up at Shiro, looking for all the world like a put-out cat.

“You know, Captain, at this rate you're going to be bailing me out of jail for the rest of your life.”

“It's only fair.” Shiro shrugs, wrapping an arm around Keith's shoulder and bumping their hips together with a silly grin. “You bailed me out of death, right?”

“I like to think of it as encouraging you to wake up from a restful sleep,” Keith grumbles, face clouding over at the mention of Shiro's brush with mortality. “Just a... slightly longer nap than usual.”

“Does that make you my prince charming then?” Shiro can't resist the tease, crooking a grin down at the pouting man tucked under his arm. “I do recall you leaning over my glass coffin...”

What he doesn't mention is the near heart attack he had when Keith leaned in, thinking he was finally going to get the classic 'true love's first kiss', just like in every old timey story his grandmother had ever read him. But of course, that hadn't exactly happened, or he wouldn't be here trying to woo the love of his life with a trip to the mall and a slightly more dim than usual camping trip.

At least the sensory memory of those long fingers on his thigh was a decent consolation prize.

“I'll save you from any space dragons that try anything funny,” Keith agrees, breaking into Shiro's gay reverie. “And Kosmo's almost big enough to ride like a horse.”

“I'm sure he'd love that,” Shiro murmurs, thoroughly enjoying the mental image of Keith in glimmering plate armor with Shiro's own favor tucked into his breastplate... roses falling all around him as he wins the tournament for Shiro's honor, and a kiss for the victor...

“Uh... Shiro?” Keith halts their stroll down the hall with furrowed brows and a hand reaching up to press against Shiro's forehead. “Are you alright? You're looking a little... dazed.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Shiro squeaks, inevitably flushing hotter under the scrutiny of those gorgeous eyes. “Am I?” He tries to pass it off with a laugh that ends up as more of a nervous titter, nearly squirming from the proximity of Keith tucked right up against him. “The air conditioner must be acting up.”

A white lie, one that he'll pay for later if Atlas's offended trill in his mind is any indication, but it seems to appease Keith's hawk-eyed protective instincts for the time being.

“If you say so...” Keith drawls, letting his hand slide to cup Shiro's cheek for just a moment longer than seems necessary between friends... but then he's stepping away with a rueful smile. “Well, I've gotta get going... gotta start training the new contingent today, and I'm already kinda behind.”

“Oh...” Shiro definitely does not pout as Keith slips out from under his arm. “Will you be at the mess hall for dinner?”

“Wouldn't miss it, old timer.” Keith winks, throwing a cheeky salute as he takes another step back. “I'll keep skimming for stuff to do at the swap moon while I've got them running laps today.”

Then he's spinning on his heel and flitting down the hall like a shadow come to life, giving Shiro the perfect opportunity to unsubtly ogle the tight fit of his uniform and the fluid power beneath it.

“Bye, Keith,” he calls out, just this side of awkwardly loud in the echoing hallway.

One gloved hand flicks a wave back before he disappears around the corner, leaving Shiro to aim his dopey grin at the far end of the corridor.

His dreamy sigh should probably be more embarrassing, fit as it is for a blushing school girl.

“Wooooow.”

Shiro startles at the mocking drawl, whirling around to catch sight of Pidge's torso where it half dangles from a newly removed vent shaft.

“That was pretty pathetic, fearless leader.”

“Shut up.” Shiro grumbles, pulling himself to his full height to squint up at her. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Oh, you know, the melodrama that is your love life.” She shrugs and wriggles a few inches further out, holding her arms outstretched toward him with an expectant look. “Help me out of here, I need to go brush my teeth after watching you two.”

Lips pressed into a thin line, he begrudgingly grasps around her tiny wrists, bracing his foot against the wall before pausing in thought.

“You know, I could just stuff you back in here and have Atlas do some reorganizing.”

Pidge's eyes narrow, little hands going into useless fists inside his own.

“You wouldn't.”

Shiro grins back at her, letting a decade of repressed mischief shine through his golden boy facade as he leans his weight forward and pushes her into the vent.

“Try me, baby Holt.”

She glares down at him, gnawing her lip in thought before letting out a put-upon sigh.

“Fine, what do you want?”

Shiro's smile widens by a few molars as he slides her back out another inch.

“The full schedule of your twisted little betting pool-” he starts, cutting off her half-formed protest with a nudge back into the vent, “-and the assurance that none of you creeps are going to follow us out there next week.”

Pidge's huff is borderline indignant, even as she keeps a death grip on his sleeves.

“Fine... I don't want to see you two being all gross and mushy arguing about who respects who more anyway.”

“Sure, Pidgeon,” Shiro snickers, sliding her all the way out and lowering her feet to the floor. “That's why you were creeping around in the vents eavesdropping.”

“I wasn't eavesdropping,” she protests, brushing the caked layer dust off her uniform. “I was trying to sabotage Matt's room without setting off his bio-locks on the door, but I got turned around.”

“That's... not very reassuring.” He shakes his head and claps her on the shoulder, ignoring the puff of grime that now inevitably coats his palm. “I'd like the list by sundown, if you can manage it.”

“Yeah, yeah...” She sucks her teeth and squints up at him, shoulders hunched and face pinched like she's been eating lemons. “But it's not gonna make a difference, you know... you either have the guts to tell Keith how you feel or you don't.”

“You know Katie,” Shiro needles, just to watch her rankle at the name, “Some people like to go into missions with incomplete information-” He pauses, leveling her with a meaningful stare. “-but some others end up as captains who have strategic plans to win over critical partners-” A smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth as he leans down into her space. “-and some of us get stuck in vent shafts.”

If the parting hair ruffle is a touch more enthusiastic than usual, well... he's just trying to help get the dust out of her hair...


	7. Chapter 7

“Your boyfriend is extorting my little sister, you know.”

Keith can feel the beginning of a flutter in his eyelid as his desk chair spins around and a pair of dirty boots plunk themselves onto his desk. All he wanted was to come in here and grab his extra uniform so he wouldn't have to stop in tomorrow morning before the briefing... just one tiny errand without someone bothering him.

“That's weird considering I don't have a boyfriend,” he grunts, pointedly not looking at Matt's stupid face as he skirts the edge of the desk and heads to the closet. “What did Pidge do?”

“She wouldn't say.” Matt shrugs, digging into his ear with his pinkie before holding it up to the dim light to examine. “But I'm betting it had something to do with sensors in the vents near my room going haywire this afternoon.”

He flicks the earwax onto the floor and shrugs again, looking at Keith expectantly as the other man tries to remember those meditation lessons his therapist attempted to impart on him.

“And what does that have to do with me?” His tone is deceptively even as he slides open the closet door and starts digging for his cleanest jacket. “I haven't heard anything about her schemes or your room or anything like that.”

“Nah,” Matt grins, eyebrow wiggles visible even through the reflection on the polished steel door, “but I heard about your date while she was bitching, so she must've done something to piss off your boyfriend.”

“I don't know if it's really a _date_ date,” Keith mumbles as he plucks at a stained sleeve with a grimace. “I think we're going to a mall and then a moon, that's not much more romantic than recon.”

“Not with an attitude like _that,_ ” Matt scoffs, letting his boots thud to the floor as he heaves himself out of the chair. “You make it sound like you're going there in full uniform.”

Keith turns enough to blink at him, offering half a shrug as Matt's jaw drops.

“Tell me you weren't going on a date with Shiro in uniform,” Matt begs, dragging one hand down his face in exasperation as Keith's shoulders gain a defensive set. “Please, for the love of god, tell me you weren't going to show up there in full armor ready to go slurp down rations and play mall cop.”

“ _No_ ,” Keith growls, yanking a jacket out at random and stuffing it under his arm, thoroughly done with the conversation. “We obviously aren't going to be working.... but it's just hanging out.”

“Buddy... no.”

The condescension in his tone immediately sets Keith glaring as he tries to step around the lanky pest with a huff – only to be blocked when Matt mirrors the step with a hand to his chest.

“Move, Holt.”

“Nuh-uh.” Matt shakes his head, face pained like he knows he's about to get his eyebrows forcibly shaved off for his troubles. “I can't watch you sabotage yourself again, it's been too long and I'm _tired._ ”

“I'm tired of _you.”_ Keith grumbles back, crossing his arms but making no move to shoulder past. “I'm going to ask him out when the time is right, I already tried once... I just don't think that's what this is this time.”

“ _I just don't think that's what this is-_ ” Matt mocks, hand squawking with little regard to his own safety. “Really Kitten, really?”

“I hate you so much,” Keith sighs, slumping back against the wall with a roll of his eyes. “Fine, if you're so fucking smart what do you think I should do?”

“Woo him, duh.” Matt rolls his eyes right back, giving Keith the most sarcastic jazz hands he can manage. “Remember the whole you coming back from your self imposed exile to woo the man plan?”

Keith offers him half a nod, face twisted in annoyance.

“Good,” Matt steamrolls on, taking a few steps back to plop his ass right on the stack of papers Keith had sorted earlier. “Cause if I'm not getting a turn on this dick anymore somebody better be... don't let my sacrifice be in vain.”

“You're the one who said it would be weird,” Keith huffs, pointedly ignoring the fact that he'd been secretly relieved he didn't have to try to mentally juggle a fuck buddy and the love of his life simultaneously. “It's not like I cut you off.”

“Right.” Matt snorts, flicking a pen off Keith's desk just to watch his eye twitch. “I think Shiro would have done the cutting.”

Keith's lips purse in annoyance, but it's not like he's wrong...

“Whatever,” he grunts, taking a step toward the door, “if you're not going to help me you can get your grimy ass off my desk.”

“Tch.” Matt takes his sweet time sliding off the edge, effectively dragging the piles of paper into one giant puddle. “Of course I'm going to help you... and step one is helping you realize your ass looks fantastic in literally anything but your potato sack uniform pants.”

Keith closes his eyes and lets out an aggrieved sigh, resigning himself to whatever shenanigans the menace strolling toward him has in store.

“Fine, Holt... but if this doesn't work you never get to bother me about anything ever again.”

Matt's smirk sets the alarm bells ringing in his mind as he spits in his hand and grabs Keith's before he can flee.

“Kitten, you've got yourself a deal.”

The plan, as it turns out, includes being pinched and prodded within an inch of his life as the soon to be corpses formerly known as the paladins of Voltron take turns offering terrible advice.

“I'm just _saying_ -” Lance squawks, crossing his arms with a huff as Hunk steps between them and wraps Keith in a bear hug, “-you're definitely overdue for a haircut and I'm sure Shiro would appreciate the effort to look even moderately presentable.”

“Lance,” Hunk grunts, arms tightening as Keith seethes against him, “how about you go get us snacks, yeah? The ones in the kitchen by the MFE dorms.”

Lance scoffs, unconcerned for life or limb as he steps closer to biting range.

“You're not getting rid of me that easily... look how dry his skin is.”

“It's gonna be a lot less dry when it's got your blood all over it,” Keith growls back, toe just grazing Lance's knee as he kicks out. “You're not cutting my damn hair.”

“Nobody's cutting your hair buddy,” Hunk soothes, rubbing one hand down his bicep as he shoots a glare over Keith's head. “I know it's a Galra thing, we wouldn't do that.... _right Lance?_ ”

He gets a sniff and a shrug in response, as close to an agreement as it'll get.

“Soooo...” Pidge drawls from the floor where she and Matt have been waiting for carnage, “now that we probably won't have to call a medic can we finally get started?”

“Started with what?” Keith's eyes narrow at them, fully prepared to launch himself right out of Hunk's arms, wooing be damned. He turns to Matt with a betrayed look. “I thought you were going to help me.”

“Oh, we are.” Matt snickers, hopping up and ambling across the room to drag over a chair. “We're going to make sure our fearless leader won't be able to resist those big doe eyes.”

“Big doe... what-?” Keith sputters as Hunk hoists him up and plants him in the chair, whipping a sheet out of nowhere to drape around his neck. “What the hell are you guys-”

“Don't worry about it,” Pidge chirps, looking positively impish as she whips a jar of goo and a nail file out of nowhere. “I've watched a lot of videos.”

“Videos of wha-”

The door to the room slides open, offering Keith the briefest glimmer of hope for escape before the final nail in his coffin steps in.

“Ooh good!” Allura laughs, obviously delighted as she skips in and pulls up a chair beside him. “I didn't miss the special Earth pampering tradition!”

She looks so earnest and excited that Keith can't bear to burst her bubble. He heaves a sigh and settles back into the chair.

“Yeap... we were just.... waiting on you.” His friends beam at him like proud parents, and not like the bunch of no-good traitors they are. “Just... get it over with.”

In the end it's not so bad – whatever bullshit Pidge did to his hands with the awful stick thing had hurt like hell, and frankly he can't even tell the difference, but he certainly feels.... softer. Not that he'd ever admit that, especially not after Lance took great pains to tell him about every blackhead he squeezed out of the creases of his nose and how many split ends were in his 'hair mask' or whatever.

Hell, he even had the satisfaction of a foot rub from Matt after Pidge had clipped off what she dubbed 'the talons' – though if she thought those were bad she should really see the literal claws Thace hides under his boots. It didn't hurt that he had been hand fed grapes by a hovering Hunk, who had kept a running commentary on the awful faces Lance was making over having to pamper his sworn rival - something that will probably go in his top ten non-Shiro memories.

Even if all their efforts are in vain and his newly acquired 'glow-up' as Lance had dubbed it doesn't make Shiro any more interested than he was before, well...

At least he can say he tried his best.

Which is why he finds himself standing in front of his closet shortly thereafter, resisting the urge to chew off his newly fancified nails.

“I don't see why I can't just wear my uniform,” he grumbles for the umpteenth time, pushing aside hangers of identical black t-shirts to stare bleakly into the depths. “Shiro's never complained about it before.”

A reproachful beep sounds from beside his head, blinking yellow through the emergency lighting.

Keith pauses, squinting up at the lights as he plants his hands on his hips.

“Hey... you can read his mind, right?”

The light flickers a bit, before blinking once slowly. It's as much as an affirmative as he can hope for.

“Can't I just wear my uniform?”

The light blinks again, immediately red. If he didn't know any better he'd think the light was glaring at him.

He drags a hand through his new ridiculously soft hair and scowls into the clothes again.

“It's not like I'm swimming in options here, you know.” He huffs and turns back to the light. “Don't you have anymore hidden closets like last time?”

A compartment slides open to his left, stocked entirely with frilly things that are definitely not his.

“Atlas!” he yelps, flailing a hand at the wall like he can force it shut out of sheer will, “What the fuck?! I'm not wearing someone else's... eugh-”

The ceiling chirps again, cheerily mocking this time as the compartment slides shut. Keith puffs his cheeks out in a confusing mix of relief and frustration, scrubbing a hand down his burning face.

“I'm in over my head...”

He gets another happy sing-song for his troubles as his own closet shifts itself around in front of him, bringing a plain red shirt and pants to the front.

“How is that any better than my uniform?” he asks, but plucks them from the hanger anyway, tugging them on and resigning himself to being his boring self.

The light flashes again, green this time as it blinks down onto the leather jacket on the back of his chair.

“Yeah... you're probably right.” Keith snags the jackets and slings it over his shoulder, toeing on a pair of boots and his trusty gloves before trudging to the door. “Hey... thanks Atlas.”

The lights blink pink as he leaves the room.

Shiro meets him in the lounge between their quarters, looking like every awkwardly messy dream Keith had ever had as a teenager. It's almost painful the way a simple gray sweater makes Keith's heart thump, pulled tight across Shiro's chest and tucked into a pair of jeans that look like they've been painted on.

Never before has he been so grateful for the intervention of a Holt and a sentient spaceship.

“Hi Shiro,” he squeaks as he stumbles closer, tongue suddenly twice its normal size and brain as empty as the day he was born. “You look nice.”

“Aw, thanks Keith.” Shiro beams down at him, plucking at the fabric straining across his pecs. “Atlas picked it out for me... I'll tell her you approve of her taste.”

Keith nods at him, sending fervent prayers toward the ceiling as Shiro offers his arm and looks him over.

“You look great too, you know.”

It feels like his cheeks must match his shirt as Keith soaks in the simple praise.

“Thanks, I think Atlas had fun playing dress up with both of us today...”

Shiro looks down at him in surprise, then up at the ceiling as he huffs a laugh.

“Well, she does love to meddle doesn't she?” he mutters to himself before squeezing Keith's arm, “Either way, I'm sure we'll be the talk of the space mall.”

Keith cocks an eyebrow at him. “I mean, two black paladins wandering around aimlessly? I just hope we don't get mobbed.”

“Aah... well.” Shiro scrubs his free hand at the back of his neck with a shrug. “I think I have some sunglasses in the jet we're taking out... we can go incognito.”

Biting back a laugh, Keith flicks a look to the giant floating arm before aiming a smile up at his favorite dork.

“You know what Captain?” He squeezes Shiro's bicep and falls into step toward the hangar. “I'll follow your lead on this one.”

As it turns out, 'some sunglasses' amounts to two pairs of old school aviators that nearly send Keith into cardiac arrest when Shiro slips a pair on and wiggles his eyebrows.

“How do I look, hotshot?” he cracks a boyishly handsome grin and folds himself into the pilot's seat.

“Like that old movie... you know that one with the fighter pilots?” Keith croaks as he slides into the co-pilot's chair. He accepts his the mirrored shades with fumbling fingers, thankful that they conceal his blatant ogling. “Top something?”

“Ooh, a classic.” Shiro hums, nodding, “I'll take it... I can be the guy who dies and you can be the super hot ace with tousled dark hair,” he teases.

“Super hot-” Keith sputters, face flaming, “-wait, _dies?_ No.” He huffs and slumps into the chair, kicking his feet up on the dash petulantly. “Absolutely not... we're picking a different movie.”

“Nope, too late.” Shiro chirps as he flicks through the pre-flight checks. “You've got that bad boy vibe... just look at the leather jacket and shades, Keith... it's meant to be.”

“ _You're_ meant to be,” Keith retorts, thoroughly off kilter, “I thought we agreed no more dying.”

“You're right, of course.” Shiro reaches over to pat his knee, coaxing the fighter to lift off with his free hand. “Don't worry... there's no way anything could possibly go wrong tonight, right?”

“ _Shirooooo_ -” Keith groans, throwing an arm over his face. “Don't jinx it!”

“Sorry, sorry!” He huffs a laugh and gives Keith's knee a final squeeze before returning his hand to the controls and easing out of the bay and into the open atmosphere. “I guess we haven't had the best luck here have we?”

“No.” Keith grunts, definitely not pouting as he stares out the cockpit and into the rapidly darkening sky. “But as long as we make it out together in one piece I'll count it as a win at this point.”

Shiro glances over at him as he takes them up toward the wormhole Allura had prepared, a wry quirk to his lips.

“You've really got some high standards there, don't you?”

“Shiro.” Keith sighs and lets his head loll over to shoot his best friend a flat look. “I've spent most of my life fighting for scraps, and now that we've survived I have to train other people for war as a contingency plan... at this point you could take me to a trash planet and I'd be thankful for the break from paperwork and thinking about all the shit I've seen.”

“Keith...”

“Nah, I just... I mean-” Keith stutters, scrambling to wipe the melancholy look off Shiro's face. “You know... normal is nice, right? I could use something easy and brainless every once in a while... what better than the mall?”

It doesn't completely wipe the ghost of concern off Shiro's face, but it's close enough as the man gives him a little nod.

“I know what you mean.” His robot arm flexes against the controls. “I could use a little normal myself.”

“Good.” Keith reaches out to rest his hand on Shiro's shoulder, letting his thumb stroke down. “Let's go have a nice boring afternoon then, okay?” He cracks a grin and tips his chin down to look over the shades. “I want to watch you eat enough fries to kill a small horse, like old times.”

Shiro snorts, shaking his head.

“Don't think I forgot about that time you ate three milkshakes.”

“Half alien,” Keith sniffs, pointedly admiring his nice clean nails.

“Excuses.” Shiro grunts, taking his hands off the controls once they've entered the glowing tunnel and reaches to peel apart his belt. “I don't think I'm going to be needing this much longer.”

“W-wait,” Keith chokes, pushing himself upright in a flash. “Leave it on.”

Shiro cocks a curious eyebrow but slots it back together, smoothing down the front of his shirt.

Even that stokes the burn in Keith's cheeks.

“It's uh... cheating.... you gotta keep it on until we eat.”

“Ooookay.” Shiro snickers, shaking his head with a funny little grin. “Whatever advantage you think you need, punk.”

Keith decides the hit to his pride is better than having to walk around in too-tight pants with the memory of Shiro undressing for the next several hours.

He needn't have worried. Getting mobbed by adoring fans halfway through an eating contest is about as sexy as a weblum.

“So much for incognito,” he sighs, slurping down the dregs of his fourth milkshake as he scribbles his autograph across some rather risque art and attempts something nicer than a grimace at the feathery alien who handed it to him.

Shiro isn't faring any better across the table, trying to discreetly wipe his greasy hands on his pants while a flock of them wave pictures in his face.

“Oh... we're um... you see, we're...” he stutters, accepting the marker with a pained smile, “Keith and I are, um-”

“We know!” One of the Krellian's clicks out, limbs and antennae trembling in excitement, “We saw it on Star Connection!” He's nearly shaking out of his exoskeleton as he hands Shiro a picture of him and Keith smiling at each other during a press conference. “I've been following your love saga since we joined the coalition!”

“Our... what?” Shiro croaks as he drags his marker across the photo, uncomfortably aware of how moony his expression is in print... it must be altered...

“Your love saga!” an Olkari teenager – who Shiro's pretty sure had been sniffing Keith's hair a moment before – sighs, “You know, like the soaps? Lovers who crossed the stars?”

“I think it's called star-crossed,” Keith mutters, determinedly blank faced. “That means they never get together.”

“Uh, no?” She blinks down at him, scoffing in a tone that could not scream 'duh' any louder. “Do you even _read_ Star Connection? Sheith literally crossed the stars for each other.”

Shiro opens his mouth to ask what 'sheith' is, then thinks better of it, pinching the bridge of his nose with a pained smile.

“You know, we haven't quite managed to catch up with the latest issue... we're a little busy, so, you know...”

“Oh we know-” the Krellian cuts in again, waggling his antennae. “I'd be _busy_ too with a companion like that.”

“You know what?” Keith grits out, pushing away from the table to stand. “I think we just got pinged by the Atlas, urgent business-”

“Isn't he the Atl-”

“Oh, you're right!” Shiro cries out, putting his fingers to his temples and squeezing his eyes shut. “She's calling me right now!”

Then he's grabbing Keith's hand and tugging him down the nearest corridor at a dead run.

For a second he thinks the mall cop in the glass booth they pass might come after them - which wouldn't exactly be an ideal addition to their maybe a date... but he only shakes his fist at the two most powerful men in the universe as they tear through his domain. By the time Shiro feels safe enough to slow to a walk and duck into an alcove he and Keith are both wheezing through their giggles.

“Oh my _god_ Shiro-” Keith chokes out, bracing his hands on his knees and looking up at Shiro with a blinding grin. “-what happened to the dignified admiral shtick?”

“Desperate times call for desperate measure, Senior Blade.”

Shiro's attempt at solemnity is foiled by the sweat he can feel beading at his temple and the matching ridiculous smile stretching his cheeks.

“Senior Blade,” Keith scoffs, reaching out to punch at Shiro's shoulder. “You're a dork... like I'm not still the starry-eyed kid following you around like a love-struck puppy.”

Shiro's own heart stutters in his chest as the easy way Keith offers the words, like he hasn't just thrown a knockout punch.

“Keeeiiith,” he whines, dragging a hand across his rosy cheeks and straightening up to pout down at his best friend. “You've never been just a kid to me... and you're well...” He coughs, trailing off to scrub at the back of his neck, gathering the scraps of his courage. “I mean... I follow you around just as much these days, people could say the same thing about me.”

Keith cocks his head, eyes narrowing as he stares through Shiro's flushed face and into his soul. It's beyond unnerving.

“You know... you do, don't you?” He shakes his head with a huff of laughter and offers Shiro an arm. “Well then I guess we'll just have to walk side by side to fix that, right?”

The gulp Shiro lets out in response must be audible, but Keith doesn't seem to notice Shiro's spiral of gay panic as he slips his arm through the crook of his elbow.

“Right again, as usual,” Shiro murmurs, smiling down at Keith's earnest face. “Now's as good a time as any isn't it?”

“Long overdue,” Keith agrees, giving Shiro's bicep a pat and peeking his head out into the corridor. “And I think we're good to sneak back to the ship now that your adoring fans seem to have lost the trail.”

“ _My_ fans?” Shiro sputters, indignant and nearly jerking Keith back as he stops dead in the hallway. “You're joking right? That's a joke. Did you see the way they were salivating over you?”

“Shiro.” Keith turns to gape at him in disbelief. “You autographed art of yourself mostly naked and covered in flower petals.”

“They were Olkari! They were probably more interested in the flowers than me-”

“Uh, no?” Keith snorts, rolling his eyes before giving Shiro a once over that sends sparks of heat down his spine. “Last I checked their species has eyes-” He quirks an eyebrow, daring Shiro to argue as he opens his mouth to retort, then reaches out to run a finger down Shiro's chest. “And you've been named Star Connection's 'Supernova of the Year' three times in a row.”

“I- I'm not.... I-” Shiro stammers, steam pouring out his ears as Keith's finger sears a hole through him. “-wait... you read Star Connection?”

Now it's Keith's turn to flush nearly violet as he yanks his hand away like he's been burned.

“You know how it is,” he hedges, sniffing and turning away to tug Shiro down the hall, “the blades eat up gossip rags like candy after having to go incognito for so long... it's impossible not to pick up some of it.”

The violet flush to his ears belies the casual tone.

“Besides.” Keith rambles, not bothering to look over at Shiro as they slink through the corridors toward the hangar bays. “It's hard to miss it when half the cadets have rooms wallpapered with your shirtless photoshoots.”

“My... what?” Shiro squeaks out, stumbling along as Keith marches them back to the ship. “I don't have any-”

“Pftt- yeah okay.” Keith turns just enough to rolls his eyes at Shiro's bewilderment. “I've seen them myself Shiro... there's no shame in it, they look good.”

“No Keith, I haven't done _any_ shoots – let alone shirtless ones for a gossip rag.”

That ones does stop Keith in his tracks, drawing a squint of suspicion as he fishes for his phone with his free hand.

“Then what are these?”

And there, staring up at Shiro from the background of Keith's phone, are several shirtless photos of him. He recognizes one from a charity car wash before the Kerberos, and another from a gym selfie he'd sent to Matt when he told Shiro he was getting 'old and fat' – but the others...

“That's... definitely fake.” He can barely squeak the words out as he taps at one of him straddling a hoverbike in a leather jacket and pair of obscenely short shorts. “I wouldn't... I don't-”

“Really?” Keith pouts down at the screen, looking oddly disappointed. “I thought for sure that one was real...”

“Why would it be real?!” Shiro can't help but feel like he's being pranked as Keith shrugs and nonchalantly pockets his phone, not bothering to remove the pictures from his background. “And what do you mean 'this one'?”

“You know, charity stuff, like the other one.” Keith looks at him blandly and starts to walk again. “And there's a bunch of them that are obvious fakes... they get your abs wrong all the time, or they miss your back dimples – which is pretty much criminal – or this one that was otherwise almost perfect completely left out the way yours eyes crinkle when you smile...”

“My... eyes?” Shiro wheezes out as he lets himself be led up the ramp to their shuttle. “You can tell the difference based on the crinkle of my eyes?”

Keith's shoulders hunch just a touch as he flicks a glance over, like he hasn't just admitted to keeping a collection of shirtless pictures of Shiro around for casual perusal.

“I mean, I've seen you almost every day for most of my life.” His mouth takes on a wry little quirk as he slaps a hand to the scanner to open the biolocks. “I'd like to think after being fooled one too many times I'd know you pretty well.”

“Oh, Keith...” Shiro swallows hard and steps into the cool darkness of the ship, feeling both cut adrift and leaden all in the same moment. “I um... you know, uh...”

Halfway to the cockpit already, Keith pauses and cocks his head back at Shiro's still form in the doorway.

“Shiro?”

Shiro swallows hard and aims a tentative smile back at him, forcing his shoulders to relax.

“Don't worry about it Keith...” He steps in close enough to reach out and squeeze Keith's shoulder. “I have something to show you once we get to the moon though... we should get going.”

Keith shrugs and lets it go, slinging himself in the co-pilot's chair with his feet up on the dash once again, aviators in place as he glances back over his shoulder.

“Anything you want, old timer.” He drums his toes on the control panel, all cheeky grins and wiggling eyebrows. “We gotta get there before I have to put you to bed.”

Shiro huffs and settles in beside him, pulse thrumming as he reaches out with one hand to flick through the flight sequence and the other to squeeze Keith's ankle, aiming a smirk back at him.

“Don't worry punk, with any luck I'll be tucking you in tonight.”

The brilliant rush of heat blooming across Keith's face brings as much of a thrill as the flying itself as Shiro takes off toward the moon, feeling lighter than ever.


	8. <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A massive thank you to everyone who stuck with this silliness for so long - I love each and every one of you!!!! <3333

The descent through the moon's atmosphere is smooth as can be – not that Shiro really expected any differently for such a routine trip, but their luck hasn't been the best today.

“Alrighty.” He eases off the controls as the ship touches down and powers off, hands slapping his thighs and rubbing the material there as he aims a nervous grin at his copilot. “Ready to go, blade leader?”

“Please, no,” Keith snorts with a shake of his head. “Let me have one day without the ridiculous titles, Admiral.” He uncoils from his chair to stretch his back, shirt riding up to expose a little strip of abs and dark hair beneath the leather jacket. “But I'm ready when you are.”

Long fingers slide the aviators from his hair down onto his nose with a little grin, and Shiro is struck dumb. It's not like he can ever forget that Keith is a good looking guy... but sometimes he's just so fucking pretty that Shiro feels like he can't breath, like his tongue is glued to the roof of his mouth instead of free to lick those sharp hipbones like he's dying to...

“Shiro?” One delicate eyebrow arches over the mirrored lenses as Keith turns back from where he stands halfway across the cockpit, hand hovering over the decompression sequence locks. “You good?”

“Peachy,” Shiro squeaks, scrambling out of the chair and praying it's not too noticeable that he's talking about Keith's ass in those jeans. “I'm coming-”

“Gettin' old,” Keith teases, opening the door but waiting until Shiro ambles up to him with the picnic basket to offer his arm. “Next thing I know you'll be getting lost in the woods here.”

Shiro sniffs in faux offense, looping his arm though Keith's and trotting down the ramp with his nose held high.

“I'll have you know Colleen suggested this moon... I'll be sure to let her know you don't trust her vacation taste.”

“That's fighting dirty.” Keith nudges him in the ribs with a smile, purple sunlight filtering through and giving his skin a cast not unlike his mother's. “You know damn well that woman's got us both wrapped around her little finger.”

Shiro can feel his face twist into something almost sly as keeps his eyes firmly on the canopy.

“Well, I'm sure she'd be happy to help plan your next big trip if you wanted to make up for the betrayal.”

That at least gets a bark of laughter from his companion.

“Oh yeah, you know me-” Keith jokes, smile bright and easy as they stroll down the well-worn pathway, “-taking vacations left and right over here.”

“Well, you could now,” Shiro points out, squeezing his arm just a little and trying not to let his heart flutter at the way Keith squeezes back automatically, “Since you're in an ambassadorial role now you would get the standard off time and mostly regular schedule-”

“Yeah, but you don't,” Keith cuts him off with another poke to the ribs and an equally sharp look. “-and I don't have plans to go anywhere without you.”

Shiro can feel his face flame as his jaw hangs slack.

“I mean-” Keith stutters, his own face twinging lilac in the alien lighting, “You should take vacations too...”

“I could,” Shiro offers, feeling like a kid in front of his first crush all over again as he peeks over at where Keith is staring determinedly at the path ahead. “If you want to go places I could go with you... I just didn't have a reason to stop working before.”

“And you have one now?” Keith cocks an eyebrow at him, clearly skeptical that vacation could be a word in his vocabulary.

“Well... I have you, don't I?”

Keith nearly stumbles, grip clamping down on Shiro's bicep as he finally looks at him, wide-eyed and blushing.

“Of course you do Shiro, but that's nothing new-”

“Well, some of us take a little longer to get there,” Shiro steamrolls on, heat creeping toward the tips of his ears. “So, now that I've made it I figure we could um... do things. Together.”

“Okay, yeah.” Keith nods along like it's always been this simple, like Shiro could have absconded with him any time without a ounce of convincing. “Yeah, let's do it.”

“Okay, good.” Shiro nods back, decisively he hopes – not like the panicked churning in his gut that Keith just kinda maybe agreed to more dates... not that he was clear about this being a _date_ date, but...

“What's got you thinking so hard?” Keith's voice is laced with concern as he slows their walk to a stop and reaches up to rub at the wrinkle between Shiro's brows. “You know we don't have to plan for next time right now, right?”

The teasing grin on his face coupled with the gentle fingers is a knockout to Shiro's higher brain function.

“Just... you...” he sighs, reaching up to trap Keith's fingers against his cheek. “Stars, I am so lucky to have you by my side.”

“Shiro!” Keith squeaks, fingers twitching against Shiro's jaw as his own face flushes ruddy. “Come on, don't be an idiot... if anyone is the lucky one here it's me – I'd probably be sitting in jail right now if it wasn't for you.”

“Pfffttt,” Shiro snorts, letting his hand drop from his face without letting go of Keith's fingers. “I think I've got you beat, punk... I'd literally be dead.”

“Well considering death was the last vacation you took...” Keith drawls, all smirk and sass as he squeezes Shiro's hand. “Maybe we should just agree that it's a good thing we have each other.”

“Always,” Shiro sighs, perhaps a little too fondly, before clearing his throat and starting to amble down the path again, tugging Keith along by their laced fingers. “But for now I think we should hurry up and get to this clearing to catch the view.”

They make decent time after that, both a little flustered as they steal glances back and forth, blushing like kids when they get caught...

It's a relief when they finally get there. If Shiro didn't know any better he'd think the picnic basket was packed with bricks and his hand palm is so slick from nervous sweat he's surprised Keith couldn't tell through his gloves – though if he did he's probably too polite to mention it.

Small mercies.

Either way, Shiro can feeling his heart rate climb as he starts unpacking the basket, starting with the checkered purple blanket to throw over the grass.

“Wow you really went all out,” Keith laughs, helping to tug a corner straight as Shiro fishes out some sandwiches, a bottle of wine with glasses, and something that looks like it might be a giant brownie. “And here I thought we were roughing it today.”

“Well, you should probably thank Hunk and Matt more than me,” Shiro shrugs, sheepish grin in place as he sets down the plates that were buried near the bottom of the basket. “If I made any of this we'd probably end up testing the plumbing on the ship...”

“Oh god, don't remind me,” Keith grimaces, looking vaguely green. “Do you remember that cupcake that you made me when I turned seventeen?”

“I try not to.”

Keith barks a laugh and shoves at Shiro's shoulder before leaning over to rest his chin on his hand with a fond grin.

“Well, I don't have the luxury of forgetting... I think I threw up for hours.”

“You did,” Shiro assures him, ever helpful as he passes over a sandwich. “About three of them, and twice on my shoes.”

“Serves you right.” Keith shrugs as he unwraps his food and crams half into his mouth in one bite. “Ih waff th wurf fin I'f effer ea'en.”

“Oh I believe it,” Shiro chuckles, taking a much smaller bite of his own food. “Matt even warned me that it was unfit for human consumption, but you looked so excited that I forgot to tell you it was mostly for decoration.”

Keith snorts, shrugging as he eyes Shiro and chews his bite.

“That just means you still owe me some big fancy cupcakes, right?” He wiggles his eyebrows in a frighteningly Lance-esque motion and leans over into Shiro's space to peer into the basket. “You don't have like one of those big-ass cake tier things hidden in there do you?”

“'fraid not, bud,” Shiro snickers as he wraps an arm around Keith's waist to steady him as he paws around the basket. “I'll stuff one in there next time.”

“You better,” Keith sniffs, nose scrunching as he pulls a face up at him. “They had one at that gala and I've been dying for another one since... but Hunk says they're mainly for weddings.”

“Well, then I guess we'll just have to get married.”

The words slip out almost without Shiro's consent, taking his soul with it as he watches Keith's face flit through three or four faces before landing on something close to 'violently embarrassed'.

“Oh yeah I guess we could totally just do that for the cupcakes couldn't we?” Keith eeks out with a high pitched giggle, eyes wide as saucers as he remains half sprawled over Shiro. “I mean people do that all the time and if they don't we could set a trend or something and I'm sure Hunk would love the excuse to plan a party an-”

“Keith!”

Keith snaps his jaw shut with an audible click, face so red he's nearly purple as he looks up at Shiro – the very picture of hesitance.

“The eclipse is starting.”

“...oh.”

“I um...” Shiro clears his throat, hand fiddling with the hem of Keith's jacket as he stares somewhere around his cheek. “Thought you wouldn't want to miss it.”

“Right.”

Keith's tone sends alarm bells pinging in Shiro's brain, something almost pained as he slides away and pulls his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around them and resting his chin on his knees to gaze at the violet sky. Shiro can't even be bothered to check if the sun really does flare a halo of blues and pinks, not when Keith's right there looking like he'd rather crawl inside himself and disappear than watch what was supposed to be a romantic evening.

“Hey, um...” Shiro starts, scooting a touch closer. “You know, you uh... you look really nice in this lighting.”

It's not his best attempt, but the awkward pass at flirting gets Keith to glance over at him, chin coming off his knees as he offers a small smile in return.

“Thanks Shiro... it makes your hair look like cotton candy.”

And that's... not exactly what he was hoping for, but it's enough to give him the courage to scoot the last few inches, tentatively wrapping an arm around Keith's shoulder.

His heart soars when Keith leans into him, head tilting onto his shoulder and spine uncoiling as they watch one of the other moons pass across the face of the sun.

“You know... about the uh... the cupcakes-” Shiro hedges, fingers drumming a nervous rhythm against Keith's shoulder. “They don't _have_ to be a wedding, but um... you know if you ever wanted to... uh...” He trails off, tongue suddenly stuck to the roof of his mouth as Keith turns to blink up at him.

“Wanted to what, Shiro?” he asks, beautiful and sweet as ever, even as his face tinges with concern at the way Shiro knows he's fidgeting. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, great, I just... you know.” Shiro clears his throat and heaves in a deep breath before twisting to face Keith straight on, reaching to clasp both their hands together in the fading glow of the eclipse. “Keith, I really like you... like, more than like you. I loo- uhmm... _like_ like you, and um... maybe someday I'd get you a great big cake tier of cupcakes, if you wanted.”

The sound that crawls out of Keith's throat is somewhere between a dying goose and a hyena throwing up.

It does not instill confidence.

“ _Shiro?_ ”

“I mean, you know, it's fine, it's whatever, it's cool-” Shiro babbles on, hands getting sweatier by the second as his brain disengages and his mouth takes over in a panicked attempt at damage control. “-like I said doesn't have to be a wedding and I mean we can just be best bros and nothing has to change or whatever I just wanted to tell you and maybe or uh... maybe not and maybe just forget I said anything? Oh god, what am I-”

“Shiro!”

Keith's grip on his knuckles is bruising, prosthetic creaking in his grasp as he leans up into Shiro's space.

“Calm down, okay?”

Shiro can only nod back, acutely aware of how his heart is racing in his ears as Keith looks at him like he's a skittish colt.

“Come on big guy, just breathe with me, okay?” Keith holds steady eye contact as he sucks in exaggerated breaths, letting them out on a four count that pings the long unused training in Shiro's memory. “You're doing great, in and out.”

Shiro can only nod along with him, eyes wide and vaguely crestfallen that he's apparently managed to both ruin their peaceful eclipse and send himself spiraling in the process.

“I'm sorry-” he gasps out, hands trembling in Keith's even as the other man shakes his head. “-I'm an idiot.”

“Your my idiot,” Keith grunts, squeezing his hands again in a grounding motion before shuffling even closer on his knees to wrap his arms around Shiro's shoulders. “You're okay... okay? It's gonna be fine.”

Shiro nods into his shoulder, trying to keep it together. Of course it's going to be fine, Keith is here and even if he doesn't feel exactly the same way anymore he wouldn't just run...

A hand smooths down his spine, the other creeping up to scritch at his scalp as Keith huffs a laugh into his ear.

“I guess Matt was right then, eh?” He shakes his head, hair tickling Shiro's jaw as he pulls back to look him in the eye. “You are a fucking disaster.”

“I....” Shiro chokes out, shoulders slumping as he offers a weak nod. “Guess so...”

“Aw, come on Shiro,” Keith croons, glove rough against Shiro's jaw as he lifts his chin. “You've gotta know I still uh... _like_ like you too...”

Shiro can only groan in embarrassment, trying in vain to turn his face away from Keith's snickers.

“Noooo, don't hide from me sweetheart,” Keith laughs, eyes twinkling – but it's the nickname that makes Shiro's breath catch in his throat again, and Keith doesn't miss a beat. He grins, teeth flashing as he leans in closer. “You like being my sweetheart?”

The whine that leaves him is beyond pathetic, and somewhere Shiro knows there's a very small funeral being held for his dignity... technically the last part of him to die.

“Keith... do you really, um-”

“Oh my god, Shiro.” Keith groans, bringing his other hand up to cup Shiro's face properly. “I admitted I have a stash of thirst images of you today... yes, I love you.”

Somehow, hearing it when he's not in danger of killing his best friend is even sweeter than he could have imagined.

“I love you too,” Shiro blurts out, lurching forward to wrap Keith in a hug. “I didn't want to come on too strong but I do, so much, and if you want I'll still get you those cupcakes... we just have to give Colleen some notice for the flowers and-”

“The flowers, what-” Keith blinks into his shoulder, apparently not at all put out by the turn of events, even if they've missed most of the eclipse and their dessert appears quite the worse for wear under Shiro's knee. “-what do we need flowers for?”

“The wedding.” Shiro sniffles into his neck, utterly shameless. “She had today for the bet, which was awfully sneaky of her, but she said we need to give her notice for the wedding flowers.”

“You were talking about our wedding with Colleen?” Keith's tone is more amused than incredulous, and Shiro can feel the smile pressing into his temple. “And what bet?”

Heaving a sigh, Shiro pulls back just enough to rest their foreheads together.

“Long story short, we work with assholes and Lance thought we eloped like two years ago.”

“...huh.”

“Yeah... don't worry too much about it, now we can ruin their engagement pool.”

“Engagement eh?” Keith huffs a laugh, wry smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Are you sure you don't want to see if you can stand being uh... boyfriends or whatever first?” He shrugs, tossing his hair enough to look away from Shiro's gaze. “You know you don't really need to get me the cupcakes.”

“Keith...” Shiro gasps, offended on Keith's behalf. “I know every single one of your bad habits and I've still been fantasizing about how you might do your hair and what my vows would be for this body's _entire existence._ That's technically my whole life.”

“Shiroooo.” Keith slaps his hands to his face to hide his rapidly darkening cheeks, peeking through only when Shiro starts pressing kisses to his knuckles. “You can't just say shit like that when you haven't even kissed me.”

“Then let me fix that?” Shiro curls his fingers around Keith's wrists, gently tugging his hands away from his face. “I promise I'll make it good.”

“Cocky.” Keith mutters but tilts his face up, eyes half lidded as Shiro leans down into his space. “Come on hotshot, show me what you got.”

And Shiro's not fool enough to turn down an offer like that... but still, he takes his time, easing in with a gentle press of lips until Keith sighs into it. One hand slides up and into that silky hair he's been dying to bury his fingers in for years, cupping Keith's neck and tilting him _just so_ until he's opening beneath him like a dream.

God he hopes this isn't a dream... but if it is it's already infinitely better than the rest. Even just the taste of him is already leagues ahead of the ones that leave him sticky and aching at night. But then again, most of them don't smell like sweaty boy and leather... and he's never had someone's sunglasses clank against his own in a dream either.

No, the reality is everything he could have hoped for and more as he pulls away to smile at Keith's dazed look, lips pink and puffy when he aims a silly grin upward.

“You know,” Keith croaks, not even trying to hide the long-banked affection in his gaze, “Normally if I'm gonna marry a guy I wanna test him out first.” His grin goes wicked and playful as he reaches around Shiro to grab the wine, eyebrow arched high. “What else you got in that basket?”

As it turns out, Matthew Holt knows two more things - always pack 'supplies' in the picnic basket, and how to plan a wedding in a weekend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we have it!! There'll be a spicy epilogue of course, but that's a wrap on anything plot related :)  
> Thanks for reading!!!!
> 
> Feel free to yell at me on twitter @illunelurks :)


	9. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The smutty finale!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised - the smutty finish to our saga!

It's nearly dark by the time they stumble back into Shiro's quarters, helpfully enlarged by Atlas as a pre-wedding gift the day before.

“I really didn't think he could pull that off in a day, but you gotta admit Matt did a pretty great job,” Shiro practically giggles, staggering over the threshold with Keith in his arms. “I thought for sure Hunk was going to kill him when he asked for catering on like nineteen hours notice.”

“He did,” Keith agrees, hands looped around Shiro's neck so his fingers can scrape through the soft hair there, utterly besotted by his husband as he grins up at him. “I figured Colleen was going to stuff him down the trash chute the second time he tried to change up the flowers on her.”

“Right?” Shiro snorts, letting his thumb stroke the smooth skin bared by the gap between Keith's leather jacket and his jeans. “It was worth it though... no loss of life or limb, we had a pretty great party...” He trails off, smile going soft and sweet as he ducks to rub his nose against Keith's. “And I got a husband out of the deal.”

“You did.” Keith sighs, tipping up to capture his lips until his own smile makes it impossible. “And just think, three weeks ago you were crying into some comfort food waiting for me to come home.”

He nearly gets dropped as Shiro squawks in protest.

“Who told you about that?” Shiro's furrowed brows would almost be intimidating if they weren't resting above the most ridiculous pout Keith has ever seen. “I thought we had a deal, you know... what happens on the Atlas stays on the Atlas.”

“Sorry Admiral,” Keith teases, pecking him on the cheek before wriggling down to stand. “It's one of the perks of leading an intergalactic spy organization.” He wiggles his eyebrows and snatches Shiro's hands to draw him back into the room. “We find out everything eventually.”

“Traitor.”

The word is a fond sigh, coupled with a squeeze of Keith's fingers as Shiro toes off his boots and follows him through the quarters. It's not like he didn't think that Keith had come back after his particularly low moment for a reason... but it had been nice to pretend that maybe his new husband hadn't seen him weeping with a mouthful mouthful of cheesy noodles for their entire team to hear.

“You love me anyway.”

Keith slips his own boots off somewhere around the bedroom door, stepping out of them with a grace that makes Shiro equal parts envious and a little bubbly at the thought of how his husband could probably kill him without spraining a finger. The effervescent feeling only grows when the jacket follows suit, shrugged off and tossed aside as Keith brings his hands up to smooth down Shiro's chest.

“God, I really do...” Shiro sighs down at the love of his life, drinking in the almost shy smile aimed back up at him and the mischief sparkling in those gorgeous eyes. “I can't believe how much time I wasted not telling you every minute of every day how perfect you are.... how much I adore every atom in your body.”

“Shiiirrooooo,” Keith whines, cheeks heating as he ducks his head and curls his hands into fists in Shiro's shirt. “You already made me cry once today with your vows... the next time I'm crying you better be buried ten inches deep.”

“Yes sir,” Shiro rumbles back, blood sparking with heat at the stubborn look on Keith's face as his chin juts forward. His own jacket and shirt join Keith's on the floor, leaving them both in nothing but their jeans as he cups Keith's hips and walks him deeper into the bedroom. “But for the record I only ever want to make you sing, sweetheart.”

“You are a sap, Shirogane,” Keith sighs as he lets himself be lowered to the edge of their bed, tipping his face up for a kiss.

“No more than you, other Shirogane.”

They can barely manage a kiss through their smiles, more laughing breaths and teeth than anything else as Shiro nudges Keith back and plants a knee beside his hip. Grey eyes dance as he smirks down at Keith's slowly flushing chest, reaching out to rest a palm on his shoulder.

“So, are you ready for me to make an honest man out of you?”

The sputtered laugh he gets in response doesn't kill the mood – not when Keith's deft fingers flick open the button on his pants and sneak inside like quicksilver.

“Shiro you literally fucked me on a picnic blanket... that ship has sailed.”

“But, ah-” Shiro gasps, bucking into Keith's hand as he thumbs over the head of his cock, “-but we weren't married then... just living in sin and hedonism.”

“Mmm, and what hedonism it was...” Keith sighs, biting his lip as he gives Shiro's cock one last squeeze before drawing his hand out and fumbling with his own pants. “I can't believe I was denied the dicking down of a lifetime for so long.”

Shiro doesn't whimper at the loss of stimulation, but it's a near thing. He settles for shucking off his pants and boxers, kicking them onto the floor before crawling up the bed to where Keith has managed to flail his off his ankles.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, baby.” He plucks up one muscled calf and raises it to his lips, pressing kisses to the delicate ankle joint and working his way up to Keith's knee, letting it rest on his shoulder as he strains forward to lean over his husband. “But they say it's even better when you're in love you know...”

“Oh, it is.” Keith nods, inky hair spilling out around him like a halo as he sprawls in the sheets, letting Shiro fold him in half effortlessly. “You've ruined me for everyone else, darling.”

The words would be cheesy coming from anyone else, but Keith's soft grin is so earnest it makes his heart clench. Only this fierce, ridiculous man could make a sentence like that sound like anything other than a line in a porno. Only this firecracker stroking his face like Shiro is something precious could turn his guts into jelly.

God he loves this man.

“You could ruin me this time,” is what Shiro squeaks out instead of the sea of sweet everythings, immediately sending a blush raging up to the tips of his ears as Keith quirks an eyebrow and a grin. “I... I mean-”

“Would you like that, sweetheart?” Keith purrs as he shifts up onto his elbows, heel digging into Shiro's back to force him closer. “Do you want me to fuck you open this time? Will you be mine?”

Shiro nods with so much force he nearly gives himself whiplash.

“It's only fair,” he babbles, fingers clenching in the sheets at the thought of it, “marriage is an equal partnership, right? Turnabout and- _oof-_ ”

He finds himself breathless, staring up at the ceiling and his husband's wicked grin as Keith settles onto his lap – utterly pleased with himself.

“Turnabout indeed,” Keith snickers, walking his fingers down Shiro's muscled chest to circle a nipple. He shifts his hips back in a sinuous roll, letting Shiro's cock slide against the base of his own as he smiles down at him. “You're right baby, you told me we were equals, right?”

“Yeah, of course,” Shiro breathes out, hands drifting to cup Keith's hips as he continues to mesmerize. “You've always been... always will be.”

Keith hums in thought, a twinkle in his eye as he scoots just a touch sideways and lines them up.

“I dunno darling... you might be a hair longer but I think I've got you in width.”

“S-same volume?”

The smile goes wicked as Keith flashes pointed canines down at his husband, shrugging as he drags back to lift Shiro's thigh up and out to the side.

“Dunno, we'll have to see how well I can fill you up won't we?”

His long fingers dance around Shiro's hole, circling and grazing as his hips jolt up, trying to get any sort of friction.

“Now, now...” Keith clicks his tongue, settling his weight more firmly on Shiro's hips to hold him down. “Are you getting impatient on me?”

“Never,” Shiro grunts, biting his lip as he wills himself to be good for his husband. “Just wanna feel you, baby.”

“You will.”

The promise sends a shiver down Shiro's spine, followed by a thrill of anticipation as Keith leans over and fishes the lube from their bedside drawer. He takes his time, drizzling the gel over his fingers and warming it up like he doesn't have a care in the world...

And maybe he doesn't – after all, they've won the war, figured their shit out, got married...there's no disease waiting to steal him away, no enemy just over the horizon.

The thought steals the breath from Shiro's lungs, leaving him aching as he gazes up at the love of his life, perched over him and ready to pour out his love. Shiro can't help reaching up then to tangle their left hands together, the metal fused into his prosthetic clinking against the ring around Keith's finger.

“Keith... I love you so much.”

Keith blinks down at him, lips quirking on a huff of laughter as his slick fingers glide to rest against Shiro's rim.

“I know you do, Shiro. I love you too.” He taps gently there, little pulses of pressure where Shiro craves it in tandem with the squeezing of their fingers together. “Even if we never got married I would've loved you my whole life.”

Shiro's smile turns wobbly and wet.

“I know you would have.” He shakes his head into the pillow with a happy sigh. “I guess best bros don't keep each other's dog tags for half a decade do they?”

Keith snorts, pressing the tips of his fingers inside as he shakes his head.

“Nah Shiro, I don't think they do...” He works his way in to the knuckle, scissoring lightly, reveling in Shiro's little gasps. “But if I wasn't Shirogane for real I could at least pretend, right?”

“Keith-” Shiro chokes out, needy and a little overwhelmed as he rolls his hips down to take more of Keith's fingers. “They were _ah-_ they were always gonna be yours-”

“Tch,” Keith scoffs, playful as he draws his fingers back and presses in with another, working Shiro open steadily, trying to find that spot that will make him sing, “I don't think the Golden Boy wanted to marry the little feral punk just then, baby...”

Shiro manages to crack his eyes open in a scowl, though only until Keith curls his fingers and sends sparks shooting down his spine.

“I've always- _hah-_ ” He cuts off on a whine, scrabbling in the sheets as Keith massages his prostate with a grin. “- always known you were special, Keith.”

“Of course you did,” Keith coos, not letting up for a second as he strokes his thumb over Shiro's thigh. “Soulmates, right?”

Shiro nods into the sheets, panting open mouthed as Keith slowly but surely works him toward the edge.

“Meant to be,” he gasps, arching into particularly overwhelming spike of pleasure as Keith dips down to trail kisses along his shaft. “Please, baby, I need-”

“Hush,” Keith murmurs against him, lips dragging in exquisite torture over the vein. “You never need to beg, I'll take care of you.”

And he does – lips sliding upward, pillowing the crown as he dips his tongue into Shiro's slit – a little kittenish lap like he wants to savor the taste. Then his tongue is swirling, gathering up the wetness there as he closes his eyes and sinks down with a groan, like he's the one being brought to the brink.

“Fuu- _huu_ -ck, baby-” Shiro can feel his toes curling as he struggles not to buck up into Keith's throat, driven half mad by the little hum of acknowledgment and flirty wink his husband makes as he slides down, down... it's torture of the best kind.

Keith seems to agree, judging by the twitch of his own hips as he grinds into the bed, wrist and tongue working in tandem as he worships Shiro from the inside out.

“God, baby I'm not gonna last if you-”

Keith locks eyes with him, one corner of his stuffed mouth pulling into a smirk as he pushes down in a long, hot slide – enough on it's own to send Shiro's head reeling, but when he drags the pads of his fingers in against that spot and rubs?

Shiro never stood a chance.

He can't even warn Keith, not with his eyes rolling back in his head and a wordless gasp ripping from his throat – though it wouldn't matter much with the way his husband determinedly swallows him down, humming around him like he's never had a sweeter meal. By the time the aftershocks are settling in he's practically shuddering with oversensitivity, his free hand reaching down to tangle in Keith's hair, tugging him up in a wordless plea for mercy.

Keith obliges with that fucking cocky smirk of his, wiping his mouth on his bicep rather than pull his fingers free.

“You okay sweetheart?”

There's just a shade of roughness in his voice, and the sound of it has Shiro twitching anew already.

“You are... everything,” Shiro wheezes out, hips still rolling in little shocks as he gazes in adoration at the man between his legs. “The best thing that ever happened to me, the love of my life, my reason for being-”

Keith's chuckle is shy as he ducks his head, blush high even as his fingers still hold Shiro open.

“God, you're so mushy when you cum...”

“You turned me to mush,” Shiro quips back, curling his legs up around Keith's hips to draw him in. “It's your fault I'm like this.”

“My burden to bear...” Keith sighs as he leans down, meeting Shiro's smile with his own even as he pulls free to rub his hand up Shiro's flank. “But we're just warming up, darling.”

“I know,” Shiro murmurs against his lips, unable to keep from stealing kisses even if it means delaying the main attraction. “You've still gotta fill me up with that monster.”

The sputtering laugh against his lips isn't the sexiest response Shiro could have hoped for, nor the light smack of their foreheads as Keith jerks forward in his giggling.

“Oh my _god_ , Shiro... really?” Keith leans back to look at him, nose crinkling despite Shiro's pout. “That was so bad... what's next-” he drops his voice an octave and quirks an eyebrow, “-hey baby, wanna take a turn on my monster schlong? Ride a rocket to the moon? First class tickets to pound town?”

“ _Keeeiiiitthhh_ -” Shiro whines, letting his arms flop limp beside him, dragging Keith's along with his prosthetic. “Don't be mean to me... you just swallowed at least half my brain cells.”

“I'd say more like two-thirds,” Keith teases, leaning down to smooch him again, giggling even more when Shiro turns his cheek with a pout. “Aww, I'm sorry baby... I'll make it up to you. You can have my monster cock.”

“I hate you,” Shiro huffs, turning his face the other way, trying desperately not to smile as Keith peppers his face in kisses and laughter. “You're a bully.”

“And you're a brat,” Keith quips back, pecking Shiro on the nose. “But nobody else gets to know that.”

The affection in his voice is palpable, and Shiro can't resist turning to catch his lips in a smile.

“I'm your brat,” he agrees, letting the giddy post-orgasm feeling wash over him, reveling in the utter safety of being in their bed together. “And your brat still hasn't been fucked.”

Keith cocks an eyebrow again and untangles their fingers, swatting at Shiro's ass when he whines at the loss.

“Well we can't have that.” He cups Shiro's ass in his hands, lifting and settling it into his own lap, kneading at the plush skin there. “Not when you're being so... cheeky.”

The expectant pause has Shiro narrowing his eyes, squinting up his own body toward his husband's silly grin.

“Was that a pun about my butt?”

“You love puns,” Keith chirps in lieu of an actual answer. “And I love your butt.”

“I love you,” Shiro sighs, wriggling as best he can, hoping to entice Keith to get on with it already. “And I bet I'd love your cock too if you'd let me try it out sometime today.”

It earns him another light swat, but Shiro counts it as a win when Keith shoots him a fond look and lines himself up.

“Impatient.”

The initial stretch is still heady, even with ample prep and the jellied muscles from his first orgasm.

“Oh _fuck-_ ”

“Easy, darling,” Keith drawls as he rolls his hips in slow, working in little by little to let Shiro adjust to the pressure of his subtle ridges. “Relax for me.”

Shiro clenches down instead, a petulant twist to his mouth as he writhes against the knowledge of his utter lack of leverage.

“Just bottom out.”

Keith doesn't quite roll his eyes at the gritted demand, choosing instead to continue stroking up Shiro's flank and ribs until he can feel the tension in his back easing.

“M'not gonna hurt you.” He rolls in another inch, leaning to fold over Shiro's hips and cup a hand under his shoulder blade. “Not ever, so you might as well settle in for the ride.”

It should be grating to be babied, especially when he's got eight solid inches splitting him open and the burning need to get railed into the next dimension, but Shiro finds himself melting into his husband's hold... letting go for once.

“There you go sweetheart,” Keith croons, rolling in the last bit until their hips are pressed flush. “Look at you taking me so well... god, you're pretty.” His fingers trail up Shiro's chest to stroke his cheek, earning a nuzzle as Shiro turns his head and sighs into it. “Are you ready?”

Shiro can only nod, feeling like he's been flayed open in front of the man taking him apart and putting him back together with reverent hands. It's enough for Keith, though. Wonderful sweet Keith who always knows exactly what he needs, even when Shiro himself doesn't.

Keith, who pulls back only to roll in hard enough to knock a hiccup from Shiro's throat – and that's only the beginning. Shiro isn't quite sure what he expected from his husband... he knows Keith's been with other people, but the quiet, single-minded intensity burning in his eyes is a lot. Coupled with the mouthwatering display of strength as he keeps Shiro lifted in his lap like he doesn't weigh a thing... it's enough to make his head spin. He almost wants to close his eyes against the delicious drag and pressure on his walls, the sparking pleasure every time Keith hits him just right, but then he'd miss the flex of his husband's abs as he rolls into him... the lines of sweat trickling down straining biceps and corded forearms, better than any porn Shiro's ever seen.

The sight alone is almost enough to make him spill a second time, and the powerful rhythm isn't helping his resolve, but Keith's just getting started. Strong hands clamp harder on Shiro's hips, hitching him higher as rolls turn into sharp smacks that knock a groan from his chest on every thrust. The shift has Keith impossibly deep, filling places in him Shiro didn't even know existed, pulling him under in a haze of ecstasy as Keith's jaw drops into open mouthed panting above him, gleaming canines on display and pupils slitting. There's a telltale prick of claws needling into his hips as Keith loses himself to need.

“Shiro... _fuck-_ ” He's near growling as he leans down, panting searing breaths against Shiro's neck even as he fucks him senseless. “Close-”

Shiro can only whine in response, head tossing and toes curling behind Keith's back as he reaches to dig his fingers into silky locks and pull. Keith snarls at pricks of pleasure-pain, claws digging in as he lunges for Shiro's shoulder and sinks his teeth there. His hips rut frantically as Shiro clamps down in surprise and spills between them with a shout, milking Keith for all he's worth until he can feel him shudder – and then a rush of warmth as he stills on top of him.

Then it's quiet in their home, save for panting and the heartbeats that Shiro can feel thundering together through his chest. Keith's weight is soothing on top of him, a balm he didn't know he needed after so many years of jerking himself off alone.

Judging by the rumbling kicking up in his husband's chest he's not going anywhere soon.

“Sweetheart?” Shiro whispers into Keith's hair, not wanting to break the spell of the moment. “How are you feeling?”

The rumbling cuts off as Keith huffs a laugh, lifting his chin to give Shiro a flat look.

“I should be asking you that.” He rolls his hips for emphasis, lips quirking when Shiro sucks in a breathy whimper. “I'm sorry I bit you.”

“Don't be, I liked it...” Shiro trails off, almost shy even as he lays still full of Keith's softening cock and the slow leaking around it. “It's um... a Galra thing isn't it? Biting your uh... spouse?”

Keith buries his blush in Shiro's chest.

“More or less,” he mumbles into the pillow muscle, nuzzling in to listen to Shiro's heart beat with his own. “It's kinda... intense.”

Shiro's snort is an ugly thing, almost knocking Keith off him.

“Everything about you is intense, Keith.” He waves away Keith's immediate pout and rubs a hand down his back. “You know I wouldn't have you any other way.”

“Good,” Keith grunts, burrowing back into his favorite place with a contented sigh. “Cause you married me in like a day, and there's no returns.”

Shiro knows the smile on his face must be disgustingly moony as he gazes at the top of his husband's head, but he can't be bothered to care... not when he can reach down and tangle their fingers together, listen to the metal of their rings clicking and feel peace with every fiber of his being.

After years of being a hot wreck, they've finally made it – safe and loved in each other's arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for sticking with this, it's been so long since it started as my little shitpost and what a long strange trip it's been. Thanks especially for all the kind words - I love you all!!  
> Come yell with me on twitter if you want, @illunelurks <33


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